


Hidden in the Right Place

by smalltrolven



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angsty Schmoop, Boy King of Hell Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester First Kiss, Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester First Time, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining Dean Winchester, Pining Sam Winchester, Post-Season/Series 13, Samulet, Soulmates, Spells & Enchantments, Spoilers for some of season 13, set in a vague post-season 13 world.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-29 00:01:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 30,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15060659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smalltrolven/pseuds/smalltrolven
Summary: A demon the Winchesters haven’t encountered before escapes from Hell to kidnap Dean because she has a plan. One that requires at least one of the Winchesters to help her to complete it. Will Dean cooperate with her even when she’s made Dean forget himself? Will he break and give in before Sam can save him? How far will Sam go to rescue his brother?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not my characters, only my words. Written for the 2018 [](https://spn-j2-bigbang.livejournal.com/profile)[spn_j2_bigbang](https://spn-j2-bigbang.livejournal.com/) Initial inspiration from a tumblr post: The signs as Kafka quotes Sagittarius. Raya and Sakina Ali Hammam were [real serial killer sisters](https://www.haaretz.com/.premium-sisters-without-mercy-1.5352259). Enochian phrases are from the [Enochian Translator](http://www.sinleb.com/enochian/eng_index.php?callid=1). Big huge thanks to [](https://jerzcaligrl.livejournal.com/profile)[jerzcaligrl](https://jerzcaligrl.livejournal.com/) for the excellent and essential beta work, couldn’t have done it without you! Infinite thanks to [](https://amberdreams.livejournal.com/profile)[amberdreams](https://amberdreams.livejournal.com/) for the beautiful artwork, you captured the story so perfectly.

  
  
****

  
Make sure and check out the brilliant[ Art Masterpost here](https://amberdreams.livejournal.com/578138.html).  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

 

`~*~’

_“I cannot rid myself of the feeling that I’m not in the right place.” - Franz Kafka - "Description of A Struggle”_

_`~*~’_

_He wasn’t supposed to be alone._

_He knew it deep down in his core_

_He kept this hidden away from her_

_He knew he had someone who loved him_

_He knew his smell when it rained_

_He could feel his touch as the drops hit his face_

_He heard his voice in the rainstorm’s wake_

_He dreamed all of this_

_He kept it hidden away from her_

A sudden noise brought him back to the here and now.

He remembered what he really knew for sure.

She was angry today.

She wasn’t talking, or even looking at him.

And that meant she was angry with him for some reason.

He hadn’t done anything wrong that he knew of, but that wasn’t always clear with her. He waited in the crouching servant position she’d instructed him to always use in the mornings. Holding himself as still as the statue of Bast in the corner of the open-air temple room was always a challenge but especially when she was angry. Beating down that fight or flight impulse was still hard no matter how many times he’d succeeded. And the massive chains containing him were inescapable anyway, he’d tried so many times. Or at least he thought he had. It _seemed_ like something he’d do.

If she didn’t see him make any movements, he might get lucky this morning. She might not notice him enough to focus her anger and bring the hurt he expected would come his way. He should be used to the feeling of being her focus, the focus of her attention, the focus of her questions, the focus of her anger, the focus of the pain she inflicted. He shouldn’t rely on hope for the relief when she stopped. It was so all-consuming that he couldn’t think of anything else or even remember that there ever _had_ been anything else other than this room, her and the statue.

It was only in his dreams that he saw _him_ , the one who was supposed to be here with him. The beautiful man who loved him, the man he loved more than his own life. The man he could only remember while in his dreams. As hard as he tried to bring his memories out into the waking world, he was never quite able to, because she took up all the space in his head when he was awake.

_`~*~’_

The car seemed to practically drive itself these days, for which Sam was immensely grateful. He had enough to worry about, trying to find his brother for a solid month now was more than he could handle, thanks.

He hit the steering wheel a few times, trying to wake himself up. “Sorry, Baby, I shouldn’t take it out on you,” he said to the car as he rubbed his hand over her dashboard in a soothing caress. He was definitely losing it.  Talking to the car, calling her ‘Baby’, but without Dean around to give him shit about it, he could express himself. Plus she was his only link to Dean left at this point, everything he still held of his brother was contained right here within this steel frame.

“Thanks for putting up with me, I know you’ll be glad to find him so you don’t have to deal with my driving anymore,” Sam said, wondering if he’d qualify as going crazy, talking out loud to a car as if he was expecting an answer.

The Impala seemed to purr at his comment, the engine revving slightly and then evening itself out, she floated down the dark highway as smooth as usual heading them back in the direction of home.

_`~*~’_

_It was the same dream, the one that he welcomed the most. The one where he almost learned the man’s name, the man who said he loved him, the man who held him close against his massive chest and whispered in his ear, “Stay strong, Dean, I’m coming for you.”_

_He didn’t know if Dean was really his own name, but it felt right when he heard the nameless man say it to him. It felt like praise and prayer and love all wrapped up in that one syllable. He wished more than anything that he knew the man’s name, that the dream would last long enough for him to ask that question and to hear the answer. But something would always wake him up, just as he looked into those wide expressive eyes ready to ask “Who are you?”_

_Those many colors in the man’s changeable eyes reminded him of the colors contained in the dark amber and granite statue he’d always been chained to. When the afternoon sunlight hit it, the whole thing changed into something so beautiful it hurt to look at, almost as beautiful as the man in his dream. The statue of the cat goddess with it's gracefully arched back, reminded him of the man’s perpetual and beloved bitch-face, the curled tail recalled the man’s curving smirk and dimples._

_`~*~’_

Sam had been home alone for weeks now, and he felt himself arrive at a point just a bit beyond stir crazy. The bunker seemed so much larger and it was just so empty without Dean’s presence, taking up all the space and the majority of his attention. He’d managed to find Baby at least and had brought her back home. Unfortunately there had been no sign of where Dean had gone, just a trunk full of groceries and a trace of sulfur left on her trunk in two smeared streaks. Guessing that a demon had kidnapped his brother was freaking him out because he knew what a mess Hell was probably in at the moment. With Lucifer, Crowley and then Asmodeus all taken out in such short order, who knew what was really motivating this particular demon. Sam’s mind was kept busy inventing all sorts of possible power plays meant to involve the Winchesters in the affairs of Hell. He didn’t want to make things worse, but he did want his brother back. _Now._

Dreaming alone in the bunker night after lonely night, Sam’s dreams began to involve elaborate rescue scenarios until he felt like he might actually be seeing Dean somehow. In these dreams, Dean was being kept somewhere that was partially inside but was also outdoors. He could see his brother was chained to a statue and could hear the demon’s voice was constantly asking him about the Trials to close the Gates of Hell. One dream that wasn’t about Dean made him sit straight up in bed, in that dead hour of three am. There was an echo of Ruby’s voice saying, ‘you didn’t need the feather to fly, Dumbo’ on a repeating loop that practically drove him insane.

He got up and made some coffee, and began researching the Trials all over again. The Trials and his powers, was there a connection in there somewhere? And what could it possibly have to do with where Dean was? Why would a demon care about the Trials or closing the Gates?

Sam had researched the possibility of bringing his powers back a few years ago, because he knew his dormant powers were still there, still accessible. He could feel them if he really let himself go inside himself that deeply. It wasn’t something he liked to think about or dwell on, it was just a use-in-case-of-emergency option. All this time he had been keeping them hidden and unused because he didn’t want to become a monster in Dean’s eyes ever again. That would be something unforgivable in Dean’s view, he knew that. But he needed to take that risk to save his brother, if this situation wasn’t that last resort emergency, what ever would be?

When he found words in a transition paragraph between the Demon and the Angel tablet that were clearly referencing him, _Coredazodizoda Erm A Canilu Ge Totza Ozien_ which translated from the Enochian to mean ‘Man With The Blood Not His Own,’ Sam was still surprised. Well, if that wasn’t an apt description of him he didn’t know what was. The paragraph went on a little prophecy bender and then it started to describe his latent powers and provided a spell to bring them to the surface when they were needed once again to ‘set the balance right’.

Sam realized that _this_ was how he was going to find Dean. And maybe have a chance to set the balance right, whatever that really meant. He was certain that the instructions being right there in-between the Demon and Angel tablet was not a coincidence, he was meant to help fix that balance between the two somehow. But first, and most important to everything, he had to get Dean back.

He read further, having to squint at Kevin’s scrawl, it was very hard to make out in some places. Once he got into a sort of reading and comprehension rhythm, the words swam off the page towards him, becoming practically three dimensional. Finally he saw them, the instructions to reactivate his powers written in Metatron’s overly florid prose style included a warning that he should only attempt this spell if his ‘ _Esiasch Blans Napta Ugear Tranan_ ’, was by his side. The Enochian clearly translated to ‘his brother, his shelter, his sword, his strength and his marrow’ and that could only mean Dean.

As he read the translation he wondered what in the world Kevin had thought about them back then, reading in the tablets about how he and Dean were a soul-mated pair, a hinge-point upon which everything turned must have been very strange. And Kevin had never let on, never treated them any differently when he probably should have run screaming in the other direction. Sam looked over to the pillar in the library where Kevin had died, and saw his own hands doing the deed. He shook his head at himself, it wasn’t something he’d ever get over, he couldn’t think about it now. Getting Dean back from the demon who held him was all he could really think about.

He quickly gathered the spell ingredients from their usual stash and grabbed the last of the holy oil out of the Impala’s trunk. He laid a hand on her for a lingering moment after shutting the lid. “Don’t worry, Baby, I’ve almost found him now.” He would swear the metal warmed beneath his touch, like a thankful blush on a lover. He shook his head at himself and got down to business casting the spell on top of one of the library tables. He lit the holy oil on fire in the brass bowl and carefully spoke the intricate Enochian words. He found them rolling off his tongue much too fluently, and it made him remember all those forced lessons from Michael and Lucifer.

_“An eternity is far too long to spend with someone who doesn’t even speak our language.”_

The echoes of Lucifer and Michael fighting over his un-educated human ways and how to tear him apart that particular day faded, his vision went grey and then black and he knew no more until a vision began to form, it came back slowly, flickering into view like a television channel being tuned in on an old rabbit-ear antenna.

Whatever it was he was seeing, it was cloudy and very dim, he could barely make out a giant statue of Bast glowing through the dank, swirling air. There were chains holding Dean to the statue, to the floor, around his wrists and ankles, inscribed with demonic symbols that Sam vaguely recognized.

A woman’s face swam into view as he peered through his brother’s eyes, her eyes flicking to black and back again. She was very pretty, definitely Dean’s type. But she wasn’t treating Dean like women or demons usually did, there was no flirting or fawning. Sam could feel that she had an intense power and she was using it over Dean differently than any demon ever had.

Sam dug around in Dean’s head a little and found a whole lot of blankness, a cloudy wall between where Dean was—where the active brain was working and where Dean’s memories should have been.

_Dean didn’t know himself._

As Sam went further inside his brother’s consciousness he began to get flashes of the dream that Dean was having. He saw himself holding Dean in his arms, they were both surprisingly naked, bodies entwined, and he was holding Dean so tightly he could see the whiteness of his own knuckles as they clutched against Dean’s shoulders. Sam could hear himself whispering over and over again in Dean’s ear, “Stay strong, Dean, I’m coming for you.”

The blankness on his brother’s face was terrifying, he didn’t know himself or anything else, all he knew was this demon. He heard Dean call her name, Raya, when Dean’s dream ended. Sam heard her talking to Dean about her sister, Sakina. That pair of names triggered something in Sam, there was something he had read somewhere, ages ago. Suddenly it came to him, Raya and Sakina Ali Hammam, were the Sisters Without Mercy, one of the most famous pairs of female serial killers in history. Of course they would have both become demons at some point.

“See, Dean, even though you’ve always mocked my serial killer hobby, now it’s going to come in handy,” Sam muttered, shutting his mouth abruptly when he realized the words were coming out of Dean’s mouth. He could see Raya reacting, the puzzlement on her face, she hadn’t been expecting Dean to speak. The last thing he saw was her fist coming towards Dean’s chin and they were both knocked out.

Sam came back to himself, sprawled out on the floor of the bunker’s main library room, drenched in sweat from the effort of projecting himself and whatever the spell had done. He immediately wanted to see more, to go back inside Dean’s mind and figure out what those dreams he was having meant. But he didn’t want to do any more harm to his brother by digging even further inside his head. At least now he had enough of an idea of where she was holding him. Raya, one of the horrifying Sisters Without Mercy, was now a demon holding his brother’s body and mind hostage. He needed to hurry.

“Stay strong, Dean, I’m coming for you,” Sam said out loud into the empty room, repeating what he'd heard himself say in Dean’s dream. His hands clenched tightly in memory of how hard they’d been wrapped around his brother’s bare shoulders. He closed his eyes and pictured the scene again, how closely their bodies had been wrapped together, how desperately they’d been clinging together, how much Dean was counting on him.

He packed up and was out in the Impala in a flash heading towards where he knew Dean was being held captive. The car seemed to surge forward, going even faster than he meant it to, she needed him back too.

As a bonus part of his newly reactivated powers, Sam could now feel something like a locator beam lighting up an area of his chest near his heart. There seemed to be a very thin line of light stretched near to the breaking point between them. Sam realized it was likely tugging him back towards Dean. The Impala jumped and surged with that strange Detroit-metal joy and they were off. It was almost like she knew that they were on their way to retrieve Dean and get him back in her driver’s seat where he belonged.

`~*~’

“You will tell me the three steps of the Trials to close the Gates of Hell, Dean Winchester, and you will tell me now!” she shouted, arms raising up above her head, her jet-black hair waving about in the wind like a live thing.

He cowered, crouching down further so that his face was just above the slick black tile floor of the open-air temple. But all he felt on the bare skin of his back was the afternoon wind. He peeked open one eye and looked for her, she stood beside him, rocking up and down on her toes, eyes unfocused, her mouth gone slack. Her eyes met his and flicked over to a solid shiny black. He didn’t like when that happened, it always meant more pain.

But this time, he could feel a pressure inside his skull, a thing separating itself from his brain. Like something with many tentacles untangling itself from his memories. His missing memories flooded back into his consciousness; first of course came everything having to with his Sammy; then he remembered who _he_ was—fucking Dean Winchester that’s who; what she was—not human, no not a human at all, but a demon; but back to the first and only thing that ever mattered, Sammy. Where was his brother? She better not have done anything to him. He had to get out of these chains immediately and go find out for himself. Never trust a demon, how well he knew that after having been one himself for a while.

“I thought Asmodeus was keeping y’all on lockdown these days,” Dean said with a sneer that felt like an old friend caressing his face. “Playing hooky up here in the real?”

“I’m the one that will be asking any questions here, Dean, not you,” she said, trying to look haughty and in-charge, but he could sense a weakness, maybe an opportunity when she’d flinched at hearing Asmodeus’ name.

“And you are?” Dean asked in a similar haughty tone, which was damn hard to pull off when you were practically naked and chained to a freaking marble cat statue. He shivered as the wind blew the afternoon’s rain inside the temple.

“Oh yes, you would have forgotten our initial introduction, my name is Raya, and I need the details about the Trials and I need them immediately. Start talking, Dean, we don’t have much time left.”

“I don’t know what you mean, what trials? Like trials and tribulations, the OJ trial, trial sized samples of toothpaste?” Dean asked, stalling for time since she mentioned not having much of it left. ‘ _Sammy where the hell are you?’_ he thought to himself, struggling not to let his worry show on his face. Hopefully Sam coming to rescue him was the time crunch she was worrying about.

“Don’t waste my time with your lame attempts at humor, I have it on good authority that you and your darling brother almost completed the three Trials to close the Gates of Hell.”

“Lemme guess, when Crowley was in his cups, he got a little over-share-y? Been there done that when I was briefly a demon myself. The guy was so damn needy all the time, I was a little embarrassed for him, honestly,” Dean shrugged as nonchalantly as possible, but it was hard what with the chains and cuffs restraining him.

“Crowley, yes, and a few other sources as well, so start talking so I can get going on getting them done. I will debate you no further.”

“Wait, you want me to close the Gates of Hell for you? Hell to the no, lady. Not happening.”

“I wouldn’t bother to ask that of you, as I know you would only fail again. No, my plan is to perform the Trials myself.”

“I only know the basic outline, like the steps you follow, but I don’t know the words, there were these Enochian chant things for each Trial,” Dean said.

“Where are they? Are they written down?” Raya asked, throwing the questions at him in a breathless, rapid-fire voice, she was obviously excited about finally getting somewhere with her quest.

“They’re at home, I can get them for you, if you bring me there,” Dean answered. “But you gotta let me go and you have to leave Sam out of it.”

“I will, I swear it, no harm shall befall him,” Raya promised, looking at him curiously, tipping her head to the side slightly. “So it is true, you love him,” she stated, with a sly smile appearing on her face.

“Of course I do, he’s my brother,” Dean said, dreading what would no doubt come next. Demons always knew where his softest spot was, they could always find it at some point. Some of them took longer than others, but Raya seemed pretty sharp.

“Not love just as a brother should though, you are more like my sister and I than I’d thought,” Raya said.

“Well then let’s leave them both out of it, okay?” Dean asked, hoping this line of questioning would end.

“This explains so much of what Abaddon, Bela and Meg told me. I thought they’d been exaggerating. Crowley left a lot of it out, I think he wanted to put himself in Sam’s place in your heart. But that’s pointless for you two, isn’t it?”

Dean shivered at the mention of Abaddon’s name, he’d thought she was gone for good. And honestly he hadn’t thought about either Meg or Bela in a very long time. “Whatever, let’s just get out of here and I’ll take you to the bunker, okay?”

Raya began to unshackle him, beginning with his ankles, she had to pass her outstretched hands over the demonic symbols on the heavy cuffs and chains before they’d respond to the key she turned in the locks. They fell to the floor with a clang and Dean had to hold himself in check to not wildly scratch at his irritated skin where the cuffs had been on his ankles. He couldn’t let her see any weakness, none at all, he knew all too well that’s how demons got to you. Finding a weakness, no matter how small and pressing on it with all their dark power until you gave in to them.

“We are closer to your bunker than you might realize,” she said, standing up and stretching her arms wide. She stalked across the room quickly and disappeared through the archway. He tried to get the locks on his wrist cuffs to respond to the sharp shard of marble he’d managed to chip off the base of the statue, but they obviously needed the same magic demon hand-wave the ankle cuffs had required. He stretched his legs though and tried to stand, the chains rattling against the statue.

“Stop, you will damage Her,” Raya commanded from across the room.

_`~*~’_

 


	3. Chapter 3

~*~

Dean paused and sat back down on the floor, stretching his legs out in front of him, trying to be as ready as he could when she released him. Raya approached holding a folded bundle of clothes. He recognized the flannel on top as the one he’d been wearing when she’d kidnapped him from the parking lot of Ranchero [#2](https://www.livejournal.com/rsearch/?tags=%232) way over in Downs. He’d had a trunkful of grocery shopping too, he tried not to think of all that marinated steak gone bad in his Baby. Hopefully Sam had found the car and taken care of it. He tried to keep a picture of him getting to cook the steaks for Sam in their home, both of them safe and away from all this demon drama.

“You said we were close to the bunker, so where the hell are we?” Dean asked as he took the bundle of clothes from her, hiding his worry that she knew about the bunker at all.

“We’re on the shores of Truman Lake in Wisdom, Missouri. One of Bast’s devotees built himself this temple out of sight of any neighbors in the late 1800s. The sacrifices he performed over the years of anyone unfortunate enough to find the place built up enough power so that it was an obvious choice for me to use,” Raya said with a haughty tone that made him want to laugh.

“So you’re not a Bast devotee yourself?” Dean asked, trying desperately to make conversation with this demon so that she’d let him keep his mind. He had to keep Sam safe, he hoped that his brother wouldn’t be home when they showed up. He worked on getting his jeans and boots on as well as he could with the cuffs still holding his wrists.

Raya laughed suddenly, her head tipping back as her mouth opened wide. The laughter sounded forced and unnatural to his ears, demons forgot how to sound human once they’d been down below for a while. “No, I am a devotee of ending the reign of demons in the world. But I will use power where I find it, even if Bast or any other deity is involved.”

“Well I second that emotion, sister,” Dean said. “Can you undo these so I can get dressed the rest of the way?”

“You do know that if you try anything, I will—“ Raya said, waving her hands over the inscriptions on the chains and cuffs.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, you’ll come after me, kill me or whatever, as long as you’re on the up and up with closing the Gates and leaving me and Sam alone, I’m on board.”

The chains clinked to the floor and before Dean could even pass his hands over the blistered skin on his wrists a loud crash sounded just outside the archway. Raya jumped in surprise and dashed across the room. Sam entered the temple, his chest heaving as he raised what looked like part of a stone altar over his head, he threw it at Raya as she approached. How the hell was Sam doing that? The thing must have weighed a thousand pounds!

Raya easily blocked it with her power before it could quite hit her, the thing exploded into a cloud of granite powder and shards. With a blast of her remaining power she slammed Sam up against the side of the Bast statue.

“Heya, Sammy,” Dean said, quickly pulling on the rest of his clothes, “Meet Raya, she wants to close the Gates to Hell. Did you put the steaks in the freezer?”

Sam’s eyes widened at him from around the statue, and his face contorted in one of his epic bitch-faces. Oh god, Dean had missed those. But Sam didn’t speak, or move again, and a look of intense pain flickered over his face. Dean looked over to see Raya with her hand outstretched towards Sam, she had just begun to clench it into a tight fist.

“Hey, Raya, you just promised me a second ago that no harm would come to him, remember?” Dean called, moving closer to where Sam was pinned to the statue.

“That was before he threw my own altar at my head,” Raya said, picking shards of granite out of her hair.

“He’s really sorry, I promise. He just had to do the He-Man routine so we can keep track of who saved who this time,” Dean said, “can you let him catch a breath and talk at least?”

Raya glowered at Dean but released her clenched fist and flicked her fingers in Sam’s direction. Dean’s relief at hearing Sam’s loud inhale of breath was everything at that moment.

" _Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas—_ “ Sam began speaking the demon exorcism the very moment he was done taking in that first breath.

Raya flicked her fingers at him again and Sam’s voice cut off abruptly. She raised her hand above her head and he slid up the wall of the temple until he was twenty feet above them, plastered to one of the corners of the ornate ceiling. Dean saw Sam’s chest was still moving, so at least he knew he was breathing.

“Hey, like I said, he had to try, you gotta give him that,” Dean said with a shrug. He was trying his hardest to seem nonchalant about the fact that she was hurting his brother, but the rage building inside of him was getting hard to hold back.

Raya laughed that horrible almost-human laugh again, but Sam remained on the ceiling, bitch-face now replaced with a mask of pain. “You think I don’t know how much this hurts you, Dean? Seeing him in pain, knowing he’s about to die?” she asked with a sneer.

“You’re hurting him, Raya, c’mon let him down, so we can go back to the bunker and I’ll get you what I promised you,” Dean said, readying himself to tackle her if she didn’t let his brother down right the fuck now.

Sam slid up along the arc of the ceiling slowly, inch by horrifying inch until he was in the center of the temple at the very peak of the high ceiling.

“I could drop him here, to the marble floor and he would be so much pomegranate jelly. Or I could leave him up there to starve. Which would you prefer to see?” Raya asked, her eyes clicking back to black, her face gone an unsettling blank.

Dean felt all the rage he’d been trying to hold back crash over him and he launched himself at her with a savage growl, knocking her to the floor. He had his hands around her neck, watching her face go red as she struggled under him, having to project her power to hold Sam on the ceiling had left her vulnerable. She managed to get one hand free and flicked Dean to the side of the temple. Dean crashed into the statue and blinked his eyes until the blurriness cleared. He watched as Raya struggled to her feet, grinning at him with her demon black eyes flashing with the promise of immense pain.

Just as it seemed she was about to end both of them, Sam was—Sam was there, floating down through the air from the height of the temple ceiling. There was a visible wave of power blasting out from him, it was pinning Raya to one spot on the floor where she barely managed to remain standing. Dean couldn’t process what he was seeing, how the hell was Sam doing that floating thing? Was Raya making him see things again?

Raya’s eyes widened with surprise and she managed a low bow against the pressure of Sam’s power, “Your majesty.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Raya?” Sam asked as he helped Dean up, running his hands over Dean’s body in their familiar quick check pattern.

“We never gave up the hope that you would return to us, the Boy King’s reign has long been foretold and you’ve never been needed more. Hell will gladly welcome your rule,” Raya said, still holding her bowing position.

“Not this shit again,” Dean said. “C’mon, Sammy, just—wouldja tell her already.”

Sam’s eyes flashed yellow for a moment and the power he’d been projecting towards Raya seemed to fold back inside him, it made Sam feel even larger and stronger than usual against Dean’s side. Dean leaned into Sam even harder, hoping the press of their bodies together would snap Sam out of whatever the hell this was. He made a resolution to never think about the yellow in Sam’s eyes unless absolutely necessary.

“I am no one’s king, Raya, and you are not to call me that ever again,” Sam said. “So, I guess that was you last month trying to get into the bunker past our wards.”

“Yes, my ki—Sam, it was me. I just need the Trials,” Raya answered.

“And you’ll have them, if you behave,” Sam said.

“Yes, of course, I will,” Raya promised.

“Good, let’s go then,” Sam said.

Dean relaxed against Sam as his brother’s voice seemed to lose that edge of extra power. Sam’s arm came around his shoulders, holding him close in a half hug that Dean’s body responded to with such a wave of need it made Dean almost gasp out loud.

“You okay, Dean?” Sam asked quietly, lips brushing the side of Dean’s temple.

Sam’s voice was a trigger, suddenly Dean could feel each place they touched in this burning wave of— _shit, what was this?_ He couldn’t begin to tell himself what it was, all he could feel was a powerful wave of need and emotion and want and Sammy and _mine._

“Me too, Dean,” Sam said quietly, his lips still moving against Dean’s temple, as if he was responding to something Dean had said out loud.

  
Dean turned in Sam’s hold to look up at his brother, not sure what or who he would see, was it still his Sam or someone or _something_ else now?

“It’s still me, Dean, don’t worry okay? We’ll talk about it after,” Sam said, nodding his head towards Raya.

Dean silently agreed with a small nod of his own. His thoughts cascaded over him though, what the hell was going on with his brother? He wouldn’t let himself go down the path of questioning his own body’s response to it either, because—nope, not going there.

“Are we leaving soon?” Raya asked. She stood in the archway with her arms folded, obviously trying her best to regain her composure from her earlier outbursts.

Dean shrugged into his flannel and stalked past her, somehow knowing Sam would have his back and make sure she didn’t try anything else. So his brother was that juiced-up and powerful again, sure it was good timing, but what did it even mean? How and where had he gotten enough demon blood though? Or had he gotten there another way this time? He wished they had a second alone to talk about all that, but Raya was there and Dean wanted more than anything to just leave her there in the dust for what she’d just threatened to do to Sam. And for taking his own mind over too, but he’d promised her. And he wasn’t a demon anymore, so that meant he kept his promises. There had to be something separating him from them.

The three of them walked down the short gravel driveway from the temple and there was his Baby waiting for them gleaming under the evening sky. He turned just as Sam tossed him the keys over Raya’s head and grinned, pleased that Sam wasn’t questioning whether he was okay to drive or not.  Sam roughly shoved Raya into the back seat and climbed into his spot on the passenger side. Dean started up the car and was happy to hear that familiar roar and rumble beneath him. It soothed everything that had gone jagged inside of him, from Raya pawing through his memories, or his response to whatever it was Sam had just done. He was back inside his girl, and she was going to take them home.

The Impala seemed to settle herself as they crunched down the gravel road back to the highway that would lead them towards home. Dean didn’t have to decide which way to turn. Baby made that decision, guiding her own wheels in the direction she knew they needed to go.

_`~*~’_

“So, Raya knows Bela, Meg and Abaddon,” Dean said, breaking the silence in the car, because it seemed to be weighing his baby down, holding them back from getting home. It was almost like she knew they needed to talk about the hard stuff before they got out of her safe cocoon. Maybe she did?

Sam didn’t say anything, just turned slowly in his seat to stare at their passenger in the back. Dean could hear the click of her throat when she nervously swallowed.

“I haven’t been a demon for very long, not compared to most. I was one of the newer ones, and at first we were kept in these cells, my sister, Sakina and I, at least we were together. Then Crowley came, and everything changed,” Raya said in a rush, as if she was putting the words up as a shield against Sam’s stare.

“Let me guess, I bet he had you standing there with all the other idiots in those waiting lines, or what was it he called them? Oh yeah, queues?” Dean asked, laughing at the memory of Crowley telling him how he’d reformed Hell the very second he’d taken it over.

“Yes, the queues, my sister and I stood in those lines for what seemed like several lifetimes. We weren’t having fun of course, but at least we were still together then, surviving together. That was pretty much how our human lives were.”

“Hell isn’t supposed to be fun,” Sam said with a dark menace behind his words. “Both you and your sister were sent down there for a reason.”

“I know that, believe me,” Raya said, with an unspoken ‘your majesty’ left in the air between them.

Dean shifted uncomfortably in the driver’s seat, hearing the ring of power spin up again in his brother’s voice was unnerving in the dark as they sped towards home. “We’re almost home, Sammy,” he said, hoping that it would tamp down that dark power he was hearing more and more clearly in his brother’s voice.

Sam didn’t answer verbally, but one of his giant hands landed on Dean’s shoulder. The contact with his brother sparked that full-body reaction once again, and Dean regretted for a moment that he was the one driving, he wanted to just fall face first into it and wallow in the pleasure sparking through his body just from Sam’s hand on his shoulder. He took a deep breath, tightened his hands around his baby’s steering wheel and shrugged Sam’s hand off. He attempted a growl but it came out as a strained laugh. Sam still didn’t speak but Dean could feel his brother’s eyes tracking him, searching the side of his face for _what_? What was his brother looking for?

“Poor you, you stood in line in Hell’s eternal waiting room, then what?” Sam asked without taking his eyes off of Dean’s face.

Raya answered slowly, like she had to go into a bad dream or memory to pull up the words to describe it. “Then everything changed back again, to how it had been before. That was when the real torture began. You may have killed Alastair, Sam, but there were many others ready to take his place.”

“Abaddon or Meg?” Sam asked.

“Bela, actually, and many others I never knew, we all took turns, that was how I heard about you two. Abaddon especially, she was convinced that if you’d closed the Gates then we would have all…”

“Would have what?” Dean asked.

“We would have all been taken into Heaven, the souls powering Hell would have been absorbed into Heaven. And maybe our torment would have finally come to an end.”

“That is not how it works, not when it is in balance,” Sam said with an unusual darkness permeating his words.

“I thought that demons died for good when they flamed out here,” Dean interrupted abruptly, trying to change the subject. Sam’s dark tone was scaring him.

“They—I mean, we can’t ever really die permanently, that isn’t a decision that’s left up to your human actions here on this plane of existence. It’s all up to whoever rules Hell, or I guess Heaven. Maybe God himself, who really knows? It’s all about the souls since we demons started out as humans.”

“You know who told me that it was all about the souls, one time? Death,” Dean said.

Sam tilted his head as if trying to place when that conversation had taken place. “So, Raya you’re telling us that even when we think we’ve killed a demon here, they’re not really gone for good?” Sam asked.

“No, they’re not, it reduces them to their essence, a very small part of them. What’s left of their souls ends up back down in Hell, but they’re not much more than that, they’re just a smidgen of what they started out as, but still that spark of a human soul persists. There’s a place there, way down deep I was told, that they stay until such time as they are reconstituted by the ruler of Hell,” Raya said.

Sam and Dean looked at each other then, their eyes wide with surprise at what that could mean. All those demons they’d thought were gone for good, Alastair, Azazel, Abaddon, Ruby, Meg, weren’t really erased forever. The lights from the Impala’s dashboard lit them up with highlights that caught yellow in Sam’s, which made Dean let out an involuntary gasp.

“What is it?” Sam asked in a whisper.

“Nothin’,” Dean said, pulling into the driveway that led to the bunker’s garage. He tried to calm his pulse, it felt like his heart was beating out of his chest with panic, it was the stuff of nightmares seeing his brother’s eyes go yellow like that.

`~*~’

 


	4. Chapter 4

`~*~’

“You can’t leave me in here!” Raya yelled as they closed the dungeon door behind them.

“If it was good enough for Crowley, it’s sure as shit good enough for you, Raya, we’ll see you in the morning,” Dean said, slamming the door and locking it.

Sam painted a sigil on it, using a bit of his own blood. He activated it by pressing his palm to the mark. The sigil briefly flared a hot orange then sizzled out as the activation settled into the door’s wood.

“What’s that one do?” Dean asked.

“Oh, it’s a new one I just found, it’s Enochian, see this glyph here?” Sam traced the glyph with one finger just above the door’s surface. “It’s specifically for stopping ‘fallen ones’ aka demons from passing through.”

“Where’d you find something like that?” Dean asked, walking in step with Sam away from the dungeon and toward their rooms..

“Uh, it was in Kevin’s notes, the ones from his translation of the demon tablet,” Sam answered quickly, obviously hoping Dean wouldn’t notice his nervousness.

“Did you find anything else in there I ought to know about?” Dean asked, slowing his pace a little, just to see if Sam was paying attention.

Sam stopped in his tracks and whirled to stare at Dean. “Are you asking if I found something to power up with? Yeah, I did, Dean, Raya wasn’t going to just let you go and I had to be strong enough to—“ Sam said, voice getting that tinge of power again.

“It’s okay, I get it, Sam, believe me I do. But you didn’t make a deal or anything stupid like that did you?” Dean asked, desperate to hear a no that Sam really meant.

“No, and I didn’t drink any demon blood either, thanks for asking but not asking,” Sam said stomping off to his room.

“I’m not worth it, Sammy!” Dean yelled at his brother’s departing back as he disappeared around the corner.

His only answer was a double middle finger salute. Dean sighed and instead of following Sam to continue the fight, he headed to the shower room. It felt like months since he’d been clean or warm or himself.

The shower felt better than anything had ever felt and could ever feel. He was finally clean and warm again. That reminded him of something that had actually felt better, the touches of his brother as he rescued him. That ‘falling face first into the pleasure’ feeling began to spin up inside of him just at the memory of it. He felt himself harden and was momentarily horrified at letting himself go there again. It had been a lot of years hiding this from himself, but it was always there. His obsession with Sam wasn’t just brotherly, Raya had been right, he had always wanted Sam, for many long, lonely years now.

He fell into a fantasy of how Sam would hold him closely under the hot spray of the shower, whispering dark and dirty instructions into his ear. He could feel Sam curling around him, covering him with that giant perfect hard body of his. He would hear Sam say, “Give it up for me Dean, want to see it all, see you come for me, come on give it up, big brother. Yeah, just like that, that’s good, so good.”

And then Dean was coming, hard and long from his toes up to the top of his head, all of him emptying out as he held back a scream of Sam’s name. He hoped that he hadn’t said anything out loud, or that Sam hadn’t picked up psychically or whatever the hell it was he had going on now. He washed himself clean again and shut off the water. Through the steam he could see the guilt in his eyes in the mirror as he shaved his face clean. As long as he kept it to himself he’d live with the guilt, as long as he didn’t take it any further.

He walked down the hallway from the bathroom, wrapped in two towels, looking forward to putting his sweats on and crawling into bed to get some actual sleep.

`~*~’

Sam found himself pacing back and forth in his room, feeling frantic in both his body and mind, feeling like he’d been torn apart and re-made. He didn’t know where to put all of it, what he was feeling. The powers that he’d reawakened were taking hold now, and he remembered in flashes how he’d felt when he’d been on the demon blood. This was different though. This was all him. And partly Dean too of course.

Dean—it all came back to him, it always did, always had. He’d made himself into something that Dean could tolerate over all their years together, a palatable version of the little brother. But they were so much more, could be so much more, could be everything to each other, like they were meant to be. He felt the echo of need and desire he had felt from Dean when they’d touched each other tonight. That dark-eyed look Dean had given him in the car. If Raya hadn’t been with them, he’d have made Dean pull over and taken him then and there.

He pictured it, curling up behind Dean, pressing him into something hard and slick, like the car, no…the tiles of the shower he was in right now. The water would be running over his skin, making it sleek and beautiful. He could feel his hands moving over Dean’s body, exploring all the curves and planes of it. Familiar, but still new in this new context, he could hear the noises Dean would make, how he would squirm away under his hands but still press back into him. Offering everything, they could have it all. He just needed to say it to him, say the words, ask for it, tell Dean he wanted it too.

Sam vaguely realized that he was not making all of this up, Dean was stroking himself hard and fast in the shower, hearing him, thinking about him, feeling him too. He projected himself outward even harder and took himself in hand, stroking along in time with Dean. He could hear the words that Dean was holding back from speaking aloud, they brought him over the edge in a sudden rush. “Need it, Sammy. Want it so much, give it to me, baby brother. Please, want to feel it all over me. C’mon.”

Sam came back to himself, lying on his bed, hand in his pants with come cooling over his fingers. He cleaned himself up and without stopping himself this time, he made his way to Dean’s room. He took up the pacing again, worried that they weren’t really ready to be this to each other. And they had to pull back enough to focus on the whole trials thing with Raya. As he paced, waiting for Dean to come back, he talked himself out of asking for everything then and there that night. He’d only give Dean an outline of how the tablet had described how they had to balance each other. But he wouldn’t ask for all of it. He promised himself that he would only ask for the bare minimum at this point. They would have time for the rest of it—soon.

As he paced, Sam began to worry that Dean wouldn’t want him around because of the whole powers thing. He might not believe him about them  being described in the tablets as a necessary tool for them to win, if they did it together. There was a possibility he’d want to hunt him again. He started to leave then, because as much as he needed Dean in that moment, he knew he wouldn’t survive rejection or worse. As powerful as he was, he wasn’t strong enough for that.

`~*~’

Dean opened the door to his room, and almost dropped the towel he had wrapped around his waist in surprise to see Sam pacing a track into his shag rug.

He clutched the towel and put what he’d just finished doing in the shower as far back in his mind as he could push it. “What’s up?”

Sam covered his face with his hands, then ran them both through his hair, making it fluff out in a ridiculously beautiful shaggy fall. “She had you for weeks, Dean. I had nothing left to do, I had no choice, I was going out of my mi—,” Sam said, still pacing in front of Dean’s sink.

  
Dean interrupted him by pulling him into a hug. “Thanks for getting me out of there, Sammy. I knew you’d come for me, even though she made me forget your name, I still knew you’d be coming,” Dean mumbled into Sam’s chest. Sam’s arms tightened around him at those words. Dean felt his body begin to react again and quickly pushed himself away before Sam could notice. Dean wasn’t ready to have that conversation, and he might never be ready. It might mean the end of them and he couldn’t risk that now.

He busied himself with finding something warm to change into, dropping his towel on the floor. He ignored the small noise Sam made behind him, they had seen each other naked lots of times, there wasn’t anything different going on here. _(Right?)_

“What did you do though, Sammy? Why are you like this now?” Dean asked stepping into his sweats which felt like armor between them in this moment.

“I’ve always been this, Dean. It was just hidden, I hoped it was still there, but I wasn’t sure I could find it again. I’d worked so hard for so long not to be…become this, a monster. Because of—well, you know,” Sam said.

“Because of me? Back when you were on the demon blood, me saying you were a monster I would have hunted, and all of that nonsense?” Dean asked.

Sam looked all around the room, eyes frantically moving, blinking away tears until he took a deep breath, closed them for a moment. He opened them and his eyes met Dean’s. “Yeah, all that, and I wasn’t sure if I could control it by myself once I started again.”

“And can you?” Dean asked, pulling a worn t-shirt over his head, and adding a sweatshirt since he still couldn’t get warm enough.

“Just barely on my own so far, and according to Kevin’s translation, it was all planned out for a long time. I’m even mentioned in there, in the tablets. I’m the ‘ _Coredazodizoda Erm A Canilu Ge Totza Ozien_ ’ which translates to ‘Man With The Blood Not His Own.’”

Dean blinked slowly, trying to take in the mind-blowing detail that his brother was specifically named in one of God’s own tablets. “Holy crap, you’re kidding.” He sat down on the edge of the bed and tried to not visibly freak out.

“Nope, but hold on, it gets even better because you’re in there too, Dean. Once I saw that I knew it’d be okay to power-up to come save you.”

“You’re kidding, right, how the hell am _I_ in the freaking tablet?” Dean asked, wincing at how frantic his own voice sounded.

“There’s a passage describing who the brother and protector of ‘Man With The Blood Not His Own’ is. It’s a phrase: ‘ _Esiasch Blans Napta Ugear Tranan,_ ’ which means: his brother, his shelter, his sword, his strength, and his marrow. And as far as I’m concerned that’s you, Dean.”

“I don’t know what to say to all that,” Dean said quietly, he felt his heart begin to expand with the possibility of what that could mean for them.

“Just accept that it’s true and that it’s about you, that’s all I want at this point,” Sam said.

Dean nodded and grimaced at the little brother tone in Sam’s voice. “Yeah, okay, sure it’s all true, whatever. But what does it mean for what you can do now?”

“It’s like I’m a battery that runs out, but can’t get past a certain charge point when I recharge. As long as you’re around, I can’t get too over powered-up and you can help me recharge when I do things like I did tonight.”

“Is that what’s happening when we’re touching, you’re recharging from me?”

“Some of it, yeah,” Sam said, turning a blushing pink that was all kinds of adorable.

“What’s the rest of it, Sammy?” Dean asked as gently as he could manage.

“It’s hard to explain, I’m not sure you’re ready to hear it yet,” Sam said.

“Try me, I was just chained up for a couple of weeks to a cat statue in my underwear without my own mind. Let’s just say that I’m open to new thoughts,” Dean said with a smirk he hoped covered up his eagerness to hear what Sam would say next.

“Basically it’s a deeper connection between us. Deeper than we’ve had before. It’s actually always kind of been there, we just weren’t consciously using it and now we are…I mean, I am—using it that is.”

“You’re kidding, like mind-reading or something?” Dean asked, instantly worried that Sam had already seen it, the one thing he’d always kept hidden deep down.

“Not at that level exactly, think deeper down,” Sam said.

“How deep are we talking?” Dean asked, even more worried that this meant Sam knew, he had to know if they were connected in this new way.

“Soul-level connection,” Sam said.

“Is this just a part of that whole soulmate thing?” Dean asked, realizing they’d never followed that up at all, never researched it or ever talked about it.

“Yeah, part of it is,” Sam said.

“What’s the rest then?” Dean asked, suddenly wondering just how much soulmate research Sam had done without telling him, because of course his nerdy brother had.

“It’s our feelings, our memories, experiences, all that stuff, not something I can really put a name to,” Sam said.

“Now that’s really something unusual,” Dean joked.

Sam rolled his eyes at Dean. “So…because of all this, I need to ask you for something that might seem kinda weird,” Sam said, hesitating over almost every single word.

“Anything,” Dean said without a bit of hesitation. “I owe you for saving me. And weird is kinda in the job description.”

“I need to sleep with you in the same bed—just sleeping, nothing else. The physical closeness will help me recharge overnight and I’m going to need it to deal with Raya tomorrow.”

“We talking skin to skin or what? I mean usually I’d want dinner or something first,” Dean joked to hide that his entire body felt like it was blushing at the very idea.

“Jesus, Dean, never mind, sorry I asked,” Sam said turning around to slump against the door.

“Hey, hey, c’mon, you know I was just kidding, get in here,” Dean said, flipping the covers back. “Good thing I got a bigger sized bed when I got this memory foam mattress.”

They settled in bed with the covers pulled up to their chins, back to back, each trying to leave a space between them. Dean tried to remember the last time they’d had to share a bed as grown men. Maybe the one time when Dad had been there. That was a lifetime ago, this was something new and kind of surprisingly wonderful in an inevitable sort of way.

“If you need to cuddle me or something, just wait ’til I’m asleep, okay?” Dean teased.

“You’re never going to let me hear the end of this are you?” Sam grumped.

“Nope, big brother rules, Buddy, gotta live ‘em, gotta love ‘em,” Dean quipped.

“I’m really glad you’re back, Dean,” Sam said.

“Me too, Sammy,” Dean said, trying and failing to calm his heart rate which was still racing. Having Sam so close was tantalizing after all the talk about connection, plus what he’d just done in the shower. He tried harder to not think about that, to quiet his mind and be thankful that he was back and that Sam was mostly okay.

 


	5. Chapter 5

~'*'~  
They both went quiet then, and Dean thought Sam had fallen asleep until he was suddenly being wrapped up in his brother’s arms. Dean let himself enjoy the new feelings that surged up in his whole body as it responded to Sam’s. _Recharging, he just needs to recharge, that’s all this is,_ he tried to tell himself.

“Why were you even looking in Kevin’s notes about the tablets?” Dean asked the question that had been niggling at him. He wasn’t sure why it seemed important to ask at that moment, but for some reason it was.

“You mean instead of out driving around looking for you?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, I know you found the car, and thank god you saved the steaks, but what else?” Dean asked.

“After I found the car, and yes, put the steaks in the freezer, I was stuck for any more clues. There was just some sulfur left behind where I found the car, so I knew a demon probably had you. But she didn’t contact me or try to bargain or anything.”

“Raya was asking me over and over again about the Trials, but she’d taken away so much of me from myself that I couldn’t answer. It wasn’t until right before you got there that she finally let me think for myself again and I could answer her,” Dean remembered.

“She’s not much of a strategic thinker, huh?” Sam chuckled into the top of Dean’s head.

“Nope, not so much. But you didn’t answer my question, why were you looking at the tablets stuff?” Dean persisted, somehow just knowing that he needed to push a bit more to get the whole story.

“I kept having this dream, and I think I was maybe seeing what you were seeing or dreaming or connecting with you somehow, but it showed me what she was asking you over and over again. That made me want to see whether the trials could even be attempted again, or if a demon could do them. So I dug out Kevin’s notes and started reading.”

Dean tried to remember what he’d dreamed but it was all a blinding haze of pain. “And that’s when you found the power-up stuff?”

“Yeah, it was in this transition section between the demon tablet and the angel tablet. About prophecies that might come to pass, and what the angels were to do about them if they did. You and me ending up being the guardians of the world or whatever the hell we are was way down on the list of possibilities.”

“Sweet,” Dean snarked. “Nice to know they were counting on us.”

“It was a complicated plan, eons in the making, so there were a lot of variables. Turns out that Chuck giving us free will was a real wild card, tough to plan for, even for God,” Sam trailed off, going quiet, but ending the conversation by nuzzling his face into Dean’s hair.

There was nothing more to say about that tender subject, whenever either of them brought up Chuck or the many near-apocalypses they’d had a ringside seat to, there were too many hurtful things it could bring up. It was one of those minefields they had made an unspoken agreement to stay out of as much as possible.

Dean settled in against Sam and tried to fall asleep using the tried and true method of counting his blessings. He finally had gotten his own mind and body back under his control, he didn’t have many memories of the month spent with Raya, Sam was still Sam (well mostly), and they were maybe helping Raya close the Gates. All in all, not such a bad Wednesday.

`~*~’

Dean found himself awakening in Sam’s arms, which shouldn’t have been a surprise considering where he’d fallen asleep. But somehow, the dream-like quality of the whole thing had bled over into him through the night, convincing him that it was just another dream and he’d wake up chained to that damn cat statue. His eyes opened wider—Raya. She was down there in their dungeon. He carefully slid himself out of Sam’s embrace, hoping he wouldn’t wake up. He needed to get a few things straight with  her before they started telling her about the Trials.

Once he was out of the bed and into his slippers and robe, Dean looked back at what he was leaving behind: Sam all warm and cuddled up in Dean’s bed, still completely asleep, a peaceful look on his face that Dean never wanted to disturb. He hoped what they started today would keep that peaceful look there for the rest of Sam’s mornings, and he more secretly hoped that it would be the first thing he’d get to see every damn day.

“You promised, Dean, that you’d give me the Trials,” Raya said as he opened the door to the dungeon.

“Yeah, and you promised you wouldn’t hurt Sam,” Dean said, closing the door behind him. “I don’t care about what you did to me, but you almost killed him yesterday.”

“He was trying to kill me! Ever heard of self-defense?” Raya yelled.

Dean realized he had to get through to Raya, older sibling to older sibling. “Listen, Raya, your sister, Sakina, you woulda done anything for her, right?’

“Yeah, of course,” Raya answered, glaring up at him.

“And Sakina would have done anything for you, right?” Dean asked.

“Uh huh,” Raya said with a nod.

“That’s what happened yesterday, Sam was just trying to save me,” Dean said.

Raya paused, and seemed to consider Dean’s explanation. “Fine, I get it, but what about the Trials, why didn’t he finish them? What was the real reason?” Raya asked.

“He was going to, he was so damn close to doing it,” Dean stopped himself, and leaned against the dungeon wall for support at the memory, how close he’d come to losing Sam that day.

“So what happened?” Raya asked, tilting her head like she was trying to figure out what Dean’s hesitation was about.

“Uh…he stopped the final Trial because I asked him to. He almost didn’t, but he saw the light at the very last second, thank god. If he hadn’t, I honestly don’t know what the fuck would have happened to me. If I had to guess, I’d say I’d have been dead within a couple weeks, a month tops,” Dean said in a heated rush, needing the words and the thoughts to be out of his head.

“You’re not meant to live without each other, you’re soulmates, right?” Raya asked with a wide grin.

“How’d you know something like that?” Dean asked, hand going up to the back of his own neck and rubbing gently. He should be used to it by now, demons knowing this kind of shit about him and Sam. Usually they didn’t bother to bring up the soulmate thing.

“Told you I know everything about you guys that’s worth knowing,” Raya said in that smug demon voice that they all seemed to have.

“Yeah, me and Sam, we’re soulmates, we’re like cosmically made for each other according to God himself. That means we have a harder time than most letting go of each other even though we oughta know better. Usually things end up working out,” Dean tried to sound nonchalant about it, but honestly it was one of those bedrock things about them that he had never stopped being thankful to the angels for getting the chance to know. He paced back and forth in front of her, just outside of the devil’s trap on the floor.

“For you they work out maybe. Not for me and my sister,” Raya spat at him, her eyes flashing with anger.

Dean stopped pacing and stood in front of her with his arms crossed. “Your beef is that you two ended up in actual Hell, and if Sam had finished the Trial then the Gates would have been closed. Where do you think you’d have gone then?”

“Never thought about it, too busy getting tortured and watching Crowley snap my sister’s neck for no damn reason.”

“He does tend to do that,” Dean said. “If the gate had been closed then, at the same time Heaven got shut down. It’s possible you’d have been stuck in the Veil as ghosts with all the other souls, just wandering around getting angrier and angrier until a hunter came along and dispatched you.”

“Ghosts, huh? Well, at least we wouldn’t have been in Hell,” Raya said.

Dean sat down in one of the chairs outside the devil’s trap. “Our friend who was stuck for a while, the way he described the Veil to us, the place sounded a lot worse than Hell. And if you know our story at all, you know I’ve been to Hell myself.”

“Don’t know if I buy it or not about the Veil business, but let’s just say I do. How does that change things?” Raya asked with a calculating expression that made a tingle of fear run down Dean’s spine.

“I don’t know if it does, but I hope it explains things to you a little, big sibling to big sibling. We get that big sibling privilege to call the life or death shots. Like it or not. Back then, I knew it was selfish to ask him to stop that last Trial. Hell, I think about it every damn time we come across a human that’s been killed by a demon. That’s all on me, forever,” Dean admitted.

Raya started to ask something, but then her expression changed to something approaching human compassion. “How do you carry that weight, Dean?”

“Uh…honestly, I don’t do it very well, I mostly try to not think about it, stuff it down, drink too much, that kind of thing,” Dean said.

“That’s how it went with me and Sakina. A lot of times, I did things for her that needlessly hurt other people, and she hated it. Together, we killed a lot of people too. For each other, we chose to do that, and Hell was our just reward. But Sakina getting killed by Crowley, for good, for forever? That’s on you,” Raya said.

Dean crossed his arms and stood up, pacing while he thought. “No, it’s on Crowley, he’s the one that did the neck snapping, not me. And besides at that point you were both legit demons, all rules are off down in the Pit, we both know that.”

“Yeah, maybe, but you weren’t there, you didn’t hear her neck snap, see her actually die for the last time.”

“I’ve held my dead brother in my own arms, more than once, and he’s held me,” Dean said, lifting his chin in challenge and tightening his arms around himself at the memory of those awful times.

“Touche’, you’ve got me there,” Raya said with a slight nod of acknowledgment.

“Listen, I gotta be honest here with you, Raya. I’ll give you the whole deal, what the Trials are, the words you gotta say, just like I promised. But you can’t close the Gates as you are now, it has to be a human doing it. Human sacrifice required, says right there on the tablet, the actual word of God. Sorry,” Dean said. He crossed the room and picked up one of the binders off the shelves near the door.

“Then you shall do it for me,” Raya said watching him closely as he walked back to stand in front of her.

“No, I can’t, it has to be a person who wants to sacrifice themselves, it says right here,” Dean searched through the binder for the first page.

“’Whosever undertakes this set of Trials must give themselves freely and without reservation’ is what it says,” Dean said closing the binder with a click.

“So?” Raya drawled.

“So—that means I can’t do it because of the soulmate thing that we just covered.” He heard the noise of Sam’s indrawn breath at the mention of soulmates and smiled to himself. “Yeah, I was listening last night, Sammy.”

Sam stepped in the room, filling the doorway, seeming larger than normal when Dean looked at him the right way. Dean blinked and tried to concentrate on convincing Raya.

“Raya, I shouldn’t tell you this in front of him, but I don’t really think the final Trial would have worked for Sam either,” Dean said.

“She can probably do it if she’s cured herself, but not if she’s the demon being cured in the third Trial. She’d have to cure some other demon after she’s human again,” Sam interrupted from just inside the dungeon doorway.

“Well how the hell do we do that? Don’t the Trials have to be done in the right order to work?” Dean asked.

“No, they’re not really meant to be sequential like a list. You can start anywhere on the list, we just got them one at a time because Kevin was translating them for us as we went.”

“The main thing is that we have to do the demon-cure ritual on her before she can do the third Trial, right?”

“Yeah, she has to be back to a human state, so she can confess her sins, purify her blood and then inject it into another demon.”

“But killing a hell-hound and releasing a soul from Hell would be okay to do while she’s still a demon? I mean it sure would be easier to get the job done, still having demon powers,” Dean said.

“Maybe, it depends on whether she can say the Enochian spell and survive what happens afterwards if she’s still a demon.”

“Remember when Cas checked you out and told us that you were being re-made at a cellular level?”

“It’d be easier to do all the Trials as a demon, but the transformation of the body and soul that happens after each Trial is probably meant for a human to bear,” Sam said.

“So get on with the un-demon-ifying me then,” Raya said.

“Should we take her to that church or is it still consecrated down in here from the last time?” Dean asked, not wanting to name names or remember that awful day or any of the horrifying things he’d said to Sam as he’d been stuck in those long eight endless hours of being cured from being a demon.

“Once consecrated, it’s forever, far as I know,” Sam said, smiling with this placid reassurance that made something curl up and die in Dean’s belly. He’d never ever really apologized for all that, for what Sam had had to do back then. And he was still here. Sam was still here smiling and at his side. How and more importantly, why? He wasn’t worth it, why didn’t Sam know that?

“Raya, you know that the final Trial, whichever it is, requires the ultimate sacrifice, right? And you’ll be back to being a human at that point, I don’t know if you’d end up going to Heaven or not. Either way, you know it’s a certain death sentence, right?” Sam asked.

“Yes, my life, my human life, my eternal soul, all of that, I know,” Raya said, shaking her head, fierce and certain. “It’s not worth anything to me without my sister.”

Sam and Dean looked at each other over Raya’s head for a long moment.  They nodded to each other, acknowledging the universal truth of what she’d said. Their unspoken agreement to take a chance on Raya’s love for her sister being enough to sustain her all the way through to end of the Trials was based on their own experiences with that sort of sacrifice.

“Okay, we’ll be back in a while with the blood and other stuff for the cure,” Sam said, moving towards the doorway.

“Hey! You’re not letting me out until then? You can’t keep me down here! I need to get out, now!” Raya demanded.

“Hell no, why should we trust you to wander freely around our home? After you just almost killed Sam and made me into some mindless slave for a whole fucking month?” Dean asked.

Raya didn’t try to argue the point, she just sagged in the chair and let the demon cuffs clank noisily around her wrists and ankles.

`~*~’   



	6. Chapter 6

`~*~’

They walked down the hall together from the dungeon, both thinking about Raya’s easy acceptance of the sacrifice she’d be making. Sam peeled off without saying anything to head into his room. Dean paused because he could hear glass and metal clinking together and Sam’s footsteps heading quickly back to the dungeon.

“Hey, hold up a second,” Dean called out. He watched Sam’s shoulders pull up as his brother paused in mid-stride. “We need to talk about an actual game plan here, right?”

“I’ve done the demon curing thing most recently, and I remember all the steps, that’s the plan,” Sam said without turning around.

Dean hurried to catch up with Sam’s long strides and put a hand on Sam’s forearm, tugging at him to stop.

“Sam, I don’t think you should be the one to do it this time,” Dean said.

“Why the hell not? I’m the one with the experience, I’ve done it twice, you’ve never done it, not even once.”

“I know, and it’s my turn to give it a try, right?” Dean asked, desperate for Sam to listen to him about this.

“We want this thing to go right, we have a chance to get the Gates closed like they should have been. So just let me get it started,” Sam said, beginning to walk again.

Dean stretched out and grabbed Sam’s forearm again, stopping him. He momentarily struggled with how to skirt around what he was most worried about and gave up, just blurting it out, “What if it counts as the final Trial all over again and you die this time?”

“That doesn’t even make any sense, if it didn’t happen when I cured you. It won’t be the final Trial, unless I say the Enochian spell words after she’s been cured,” Sam argued.

Dean couldn’t think of what to say, that was exactly what he couldn’t trust Sam not to do. Sam looked down at him even more closely. Dean felt a fiery blush starting up on his cheeks and flooding his whole body as Sam examined him. He just couldn’t take the chance of losing him again.

“I don’t believe it. You don’t trust me. You don’t believe that I wouldn’t do that,” Sam said, incredulous and on the edge of anger.

“You’ve just been in such a dark place since Mom and Jack…and Cas—” Dean trailed off, not even believing himself.

“You’re fucking unbelievable sometimes!” Sam yelled, as he slammed the case of needles into Dean’s hands. “I can’t be around you, around all _this_ right now.”

Dean looked up at Sam and caught a faint flash of yellow at the edges of Sam’s eyes. He could feel Sam’s power spiraling up, maybe getting close to out of control.

“I thought I was supposed to be like your power controller or dampener or whatever? Shouldn’t you stick around since it’s kind of going off again?” Dean asked, turning the leather case over in his hands. The glass needles inside tinkled faintly.

“I can’t explain it to you right now. Sometimes it doesn’t work like that. I’ll be back in a few hours, besides we’re out of orange juice,” Sam said, walking down the hall towards the garage.

“Okay, Sammy, just don’t go too far, okay?” Dean knew he was babbling, watching his brother practically run away from him.

`~*~’

He needed to get out, that very second.

Out of there, out of this…now… now…now.

The power was spiraling out of his control. He had to get away before he did something irreversible like tell Dean how he really felt. Or blow the roof off the bunker with his rage at Dean not trusting him—again. Dean thinking he’d sacrifice himself after all they’d been through was incomprehensible. The horrifying thoughts he’d had back then came back to him. He could feel himself in that position, almost saying those final phrases in Enochian, giving it his all one last time, to close the Gates and give Dean and the world a chance at a life free of demons.

He stomped out to the garage and sat in the Impala for a second. He struggled to get his breathing and heart rate down, his powers seemed immediately soothed in her leather and vinyl embrace. Something about being encased in this familiar place that meant brother and home and _Dean_ worked in almost the same way as being with Dean in person. He roared out of the garage, with Baby pushing him along with all the demons of need and want and power and anger left in their dust.

`~*~’

Dean decided not to wait for Sam’s pouting fit to be over. He knew that he was right about this, not taking the risk of Sam being tempted to sacrifice himself once again was worth pissing him off. Powers or no powers. He set about the process and consecrated his blood with a confession that rang hollow in his own ears. But that was probably just the self-loathing that had fueled what he’d just confessed.

He would begin the demon cure on Raya without Sam being there, they really didn’t want to put this off. And he didn’t want to be around her for any longer than necessary after what she’d done to him. He read over Sam’s neatly written instructions over several times and did all the steps very carefully. It was his turn to do this thing and there was no point in stalling until Sam’s bitch fit was over.

“Are you sure you should be doing this alone?” Raya asked, watching him approach with the hypodermic needle filled with his blood.

“Shut up and take your medicine,” Dean said, swiping at her skin with a cotton pad soaked in rubbing alcohol and stabbing the first injection into her arm.

Raya hissed in pain and struggled against the feeling of Dean’s human blood flowing into her. “I heard all the yelling before. Don’t you take all your pent-up bullshit out on me, Dean. I’m trying to do the right thing here. You could at least talk to Sam. The mutual pining thing is honestly kind of disgusting.”

“I am not taking any advice from a damn demon, so you can shut your pie-hole. I’ll be back in an hour with your second shot,” Dean said, stalking out of the dungeon and slamming the door with a satisfying crash.

He flopped back onto his bed and stared at the ceiling for a few minutes until he remembered the timing of the shots, he dug his cell out of his pocket and set a timer for fifty-five minutes. That would give him time to chill out and calm down from fighting with Sam. His mind wandered and he recalled seeing the flash of yellow in Sam’s eyes, and how the power had hummed and thrummed in the space between them in the hallway. What would it be like if they ever gave in to what they both wanted? It would have to remain a daydream for now, he wasn’t going to try and change their entire lives in the middle of trying to close the Gates. He told himself: _Focus on the task first, then we can get ourselves sorted out._

`~*~’

Sam came back three hours later, just as he’d promised, a plastic bag full of orange juice and groceries in one hand, and an apology pie in the other from the bakery in Centerville that they both loved. Unfortunately, after he’d put the groceries away, he came into the dungeon just as Dean was finishing up administering an injection, and had to endure the screaming and crying from Raya as the consecrated blood burned through her veins.

“Well, thanks a whole lot for waiting!” Sam snarked from the doorway after most of the yelling was over. His arms were crossed over his chest and he knew he looked even angrier than he had when he’d left.

“Nice of you to join the party, Sam,” Raya snarked, her face streaked with tears of pain and transformation. She grimaced and screamed so loudly again that Sam almost covered his ears.

Sam gestured for Dean to come out of the dungeon, he didn’t want to do this in front of her.

“I just wanted to get it started, she’s already halfway through it, Sam,” Dean said. He stalked across the devil’s trap and passed through the doorway, brushing up against Sam briefly. They both held back gasps at the feelings that little touch ignited.

“I told you I’d be back, why didn’t you wait?” Sam asked as they walked down the hallway to get out of Raya’s hearing.

“I told you why, it had to be me this time,” Dean said, crossing his arms and stopping at his bedroom doorway.

“We hadn’t both decided that,” Sam said, pausing to tower over Dean.

“No, we didn’t get to finish that conversation because you left like a pouty teenager and the demon that had me chained up for weeks is here offering to close the Gates of Hell. So sue me if I wanted to get it started while you went off and sulked or whatever,” Dean said, leaning against his closed door. Sam leaned into the bricks of the opposite wall for support, Dean didn’t get it, Sam was missing the whole point.

“I wasn’t pouting or sulking, I was trying to get myself back under control so we could finish talking. You not trusting me, it hurt, Dean, it made the power start to go off, and I couldn’t control it around you,” Sam admitted.

“It’s true though, what I was saying, isn’t it? You’re still in this for the big sacrifice play. I mean, I know you, so I know you are. Throwing yourself in the Pit the first time around wasn’t enough to soothe your conscience or whatever. And it’s bullshit, Sam, you’re worth more than that, and I can’t…I couldn’t risk—“ Dean said closing his eyes and hugging his arms tight around himself.

Sam closed the distance between them in the hallway to put a hand on Dean’s shoulder to stop him, to connect them, to make it right again. “I wouldn’t do that to you, Dean. I just wouldn’t, not anymore. You have to believe me. It’s all changed for me. I couldn’t leave you like that again.”

“I want to, I mean…you have no idea how much…” Dean said, matching the emotion shining naked and beautiful on his brother’s face.

Through their connection they seemed to soothe each other without any more words. Sam steered them both down the hall to the kitchen with a hand on Dean’s lower back. He served him a piece of pie and brewed up a new pot of coffee. The genuine apology seemed to work as they ate together in silence, re-regulating and calibrating being near one another again. Both of them eating it up as avidly as Dean consumed the pie.

`~*~’

Dean’s timer alarm went off and he headed back down the hall to the dungeon for another injection. Raya was quiet after this one, a few tears rolled down her cheeks, but there was no screaming.

“You two make up after the lover’s spat?” Raya asked as he was about to leave.

“None of your damn business,” Dean growled, leaving the room with another slammed door.

He and Sam stayed away from each other for the next few hours, they both needed to cool down after all the heated talk and emotion flowing around the place. Dean struggled to keep focused on the hourly injections, but finally it was time for the very last one.

Raya’s head lolled to one side and she was barely able to focus on Dean’s movements.

“Thank you, Dean, for giving of yourself to me, after what I did to you. You are an angel, my perfect angel,” Raya slurred.

Dean cleaned the skin with a cotton pad soaked with alcohol and jabbed the final needle into her arm. There was a twinge of satisfaction as he watched the last of his blood push into her veins.

“Ahh, I can feel you, flowing in me, through me. My heart, Dean, my heart, it’s too much!” Raya yelled and then seemed to collapse, falling forward and going limp against her shackles.

Dean darted around the chair, taking her pulse and checking her breathing. He didn’t notice that he had knocked over the bottle of rubbing alcohol. It burbled out onto the cement floor, pooling over the painted edge of the devil’s trap.

He waited, kneeling in front of her to see any detectable changes. She slowly came back to herself and sat up straight in the chair, smiling so perfectly normal and beautifully human at him, there seemed to be not a single hint of demon left in her.

“So are you, _you_ again, Raya?” Dean asked.

She nodded and smiled at him, brilliant white teeth flashing in the gloom.

He quickly undid the ankle shackles and then unbound her wrists. She rubbed at them vigorously for a few moments, not looking at him as he stood back up. His foot skidded through the small puddle of rubbing alcohol and now-dissolved paint.

“Dean, don’t! She’s not really cured!” Sam yelled behind him.

Dean turned and saw Raya stand up, her eyes clicking over to inky black, the beautiful human smile turned into something feral and terrifyingly familiar. She slammed them both against the dungeon walls and poofed out of the room before Sam could react with his powers or Dean could  even think of getting the shackles back on her.

“Why didn’t it work? I did all the steps, just like you wrote them down, Sam. She was crying and talking and breaking down, just like you said Crowley and I did.”

“I think it’s probably because even though I cured you from being a demon, your blood just wasn’t purified all the way back to human enough to be able to do the same to another demon. Or maybe there was something left over from the Mark?” Sam said.

“I shouldn’t have, shit—why didn’t I wait?” Dean threw the empty rubbing alcohol bottle against the wall.

“You didn’t know. I mean we don’t really know why it worked for me to cure you. Maybe our bond—our soulmate thing was part of it.”

“You could totally say I told you so here. I wouldn’t even care at this point,” Dean said, kicking his toe at the broken devil’s trap on the floor.

“There’s no point in throwing I told you so’s around. I had to leave because of the power thing, I didn’t think I could control it.”

“Are you okay now?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, I got it dialed down again. But, c’mon, we’ll get her back and try this again. She wants to do this, I know she does. I have a feeling the whole captive in a dungeon thing was a bigger problem than she was letting on.”

“You got that demon tracking spell handy?” Dean asked.

“It’s in the other binder here, in this section on demon spells,” Sam said, paging through his well-organized spells. He pulled the ingredients from the cabinet, efficient and so practiced. The match was quickly thrown in the bowl and the map burned, leaving a spot clear. She’d just gone back to the temple where she’d kept Dean.

“Guess I’ve got some driving to do,” Dean said. “You should probably stay here in case she decides to come back. You’d have to let her in past the wards.”

“We could just summon her here instead,” Sam offered.

“It’s not that far, and I bet she’ll be calmer if she’s gotten a chance to be out of the dungeon for a while.”

  
“You’d think she’d be used to confined spaces,” Sam said.

  
“Who knows what her life has really been, right? I’m gonna take off, you’ll be okay here in case she comes back?”

“What if she traps you again?” Sam asked.

“She won’t,” Dean said, probably over-confident, but he just believed her motivations for some reason. And usually demons weren’t worth listening to, but she’d had such a good story. “And besides, I have Mr. Save-the-Day to count on, right?”

Sam grinned at the new nickname, and Dean wanted to just stay here in this uncomplicated moment between them. He shook himself a little to snap out of it and headed out of the dungeon knowing he was running from—what? How they were changing, where they were going to end up? He told himself firmly as he started up the Impala: _Focus, Dean, focus. Get the job done, then we can get ourselves sorted out._

As his baby roared to life and seemed to take off out of the tunnel, he felt more like Batman exiting the Bat-cave than he had in a long time. But he was leaving his boy wonder, his Robin behind though. He could have sworn he heard the old Batman tv theme briefly come out of the speakers, but then the radio blared back onto the local farm weather report. The miles back towards the temple where he’d been held prisoner went quickly, it was almost like Baby knew her own way there, several of the turns he should have missed were highlighted by her headlights.

“We make such a good team, Baby,” he said, patting his girl on the roof top as he got out on the gravel road that led to the temple.  “I’ll be right back.” He slapped the roof twice in the familiar rhythm and set off to get himself a wayward demon.

`~*~’

  



	7. Chapter 7

`~*~’  
  
“Raya! C’mon let’s go!” Dean yelled as he approached the temple.

“I ought to just break your neck, Dean Winchester! You put me through all that pain for nothing! You’re just as much of a sadist as I’d heard. Alastair’s prize pupil, the best torturer Hell has seen in eons.”

  
“Awww, you’ve been reading my press clippings,” Dean snarked, even though the memories she’d evoked made him want to vomit and shrivel up into nothingness. But he thought of the goal, the task, the Gates needed to be closed. He was really glad Sam wasn’t here to hear all this though.

“Yes, I have, and you tell me the truth right now, why didn’t it work?” Raya demanded, her hand suddenly wrapped around Dean’s throat.

Dean struggled to say anything as she closed his windpipe down, eventually she let up, but kept her power wrapped around him.

“I ought to just shackle you back to Bast and start over again,” Raya said.

“No, come back with me. We got it figured out, I mean, Sam figured it out. I’ll explain it all to you on the way, okay?”

“You don’t mean to weasel your way out of our bargain?” Raya asked.

“No, we want to help you, Raya. We want to close the Gates almost as much as you do, believe me, please,” Dean knew he was close to begging, but demons usually responded to that sort of thing.

“Fine, but no handcuffs or anything tricky in the car,” Raya said.

“Scout’s honor, I swear,” Dean said, putting a couple of fingers up in what he remembered of the Boy Scout salute. She didn’t need to know about the devil’s trap painted into Baby’s roof.

Raya rolled her eyes and stomped down the gravel path towards the car. Baby’s lights seemed to brighten as Dean got nearer, lighting his steps more clearly.

“Why’d you take off like that anyway?” Dean asked, finally breaking the hour of silence as they sped back towards Sam and home. Which were really the same thing if he was honest with himself, always had been, always would be.

“I couldn’t be in there, in that room, tied up like that for another damn second,” Raya admitted.

“Been there, done that. I get it, I really do. That dungeon’s the same place Sam did it, when he cured me. And I still have trouble going back in that room.”

“He’s got to do the whole procedure on me all over again, doesn’t he?” Raya asked.

“Sorry, yeah,” Dean said. “It’s all my fault, so don’t go blaming him okay?”

“How does it feel knowing your brother’s blood is purer than your own, Dean?” Raya asked with a nasty edge in her voice. Her eyes flashed black and shiny at him through the darkness of the car’s interior.

“It’s kind of a switch, there were a lot of years where it was the other way around. I didn’t worry about it too much though. As long as he’s still my Sam, you know?” Dean felt a small smile form on his face at admitting something like that out loud, it felt good and honest. But most of all—true.

“I do know, Sakina was powerful too, like your Sam. She had a hard time controlling it or hiding it, it was why we had to start killing. For a time, she was no longer my Sakina, she went wrong somehow, held me tied up for months at a time in her husband’s cellar.”

“That explains a lot. Listen, we’re going to have to do it in the same place, the dungeon. It’s consecrated and all that. And we do have to use the shackles, because once you really start feeling the change you’ll hurt yourself or us if you’re not tied down. But once it’s done, the shackles are off and you’re out of there, doing the rest of the Trials, okay?”

Raya nodded, seeming to accept the explanation. “I need to focus on that, getting the Trials done.”

Dean looked at her for a long time. “Yeah, _focus_ , that’s what I do.”

“You still need to talk to him though, Dean. Focusing on a task is one thing, but he’s your life.”

“I know, believe me I know. I will talk to him…I know that I have to, and soon. Too much is changing,” Dean said.

Raya laughed, but not a full-on evil demon laugh, something a lot closer to human. “I’m trying to become human so I can sacrifice myself to close the actual Gates of Hell. And you’re scared of sharing your heart with the one who already owns it. Get over yourself, Winchester.”

Dean joined her in laughing, because yeah, she was right. It made the rest of the drive go more quickly, listening to her stories of Sakina back in the day.

`~*~’

Sam tried to stay awake while Dean was out chasing down Raya, but all the emotion and the interior power surges caught up with him. He curled up on Dean’s bed just to shut his eyes for a nap, hoping things would be clearer or easier when he awoke, but instead he fell into a deep sleep.

The dream began with an extra edge to it, there was extra clarity, the colors heightened, all the sound and smells more real and memorable. Even as he dreamed, Sam felt the whiff of prophecy about what he was experiencing and tried to take in as much detail as possible.

Sam saw the Gates of Hell slamming closed, black and smoky shapes writhed in the air, the forms of disembodied demons howled and threw themselves against the structures, dissipating, reforming, and continuing their assault. But the Gates of Hell held fast, and the demons were kept inside where they belonged. There were no rules in Hell though, because there wasn’t a ruler to enforce them. As Crowley had always told them, demons were basically stupid animals, except for the few smart ones, and animals tend to get pretty chaotic and riotous when confined and left on their own.

He watched, fascinated, as the chaos ramped up, the torture regimes all accelerating, the souls that were in the process of becoming demons turning that much more quickly. All of a sudden, Hell was full to bursting with demons. The pressure on the Gates was building, the chaos won out and became the master, the ruler, and the edges of Hell began to seep under the Gates, sinking and slinking their way back up to the Earth’s surface. It was worse than when he’d opened that first Hell’s Gate back with the Colt and Azazel. The flow of demons was immense, covering the surrounding states in less than a week, the entire country in less than a month. Sam woke himself up before he saw what eventually happened to rest of the world. He lay there, panting, covered in sweat in Dean’s bed, the terror of what he’d just seen leaving a bad taste in his mouth, coating his thoughts as well as the blood thrumming through his veins.

Hell was even worse off than he’d been thinking it was, with Crowley, Lucifer and Asmodeus gone, the state of it as it was now…well it wasn’t even close to being ready to be locked up forever. The idea that he should go rule Hell temporarily came quickly on the heels of those thoughts. Because if the Gates were closed and Hell was left to be self-contained inside of them, the chaos would find an outlet somehow, maybe reopening the Gates somehow in some catastrophic way bringing the chaos to Earth (or even to Heaven). It all came back to the Balance thing, he and Dean were the hinge point between Heaven and Hell.

This wasn’t a dream that he could ignore.

Before he could get himself fully back together, he heard the familiar rumble of the Impala pulling into the garage. He could hear Dean leading Raya back into the dungeon room and Dean’s footsteps approaching his door. He wiped his face dry on Dean’s pillowcase and tried to rearrange his expression and emotions well enough to hide what he’d just decided from Dean. That would be the hardest and worst part of this, because he couldn’t tell him. Dean would never agree, never even let him try. But he had to, he knew he had to do it. They couldn’t _be_ the Balance together if there wasn’t anything left _to be balanced_.

“We’re back,” Dean said from the doorway.

“I heard,” Sam said, rubbing his face on the pillow one last time, breathing in the smell of his brother. Storing it up just in case. “Guess I better go get started.” Sam tried to get up and just leave the room, the less talking and interacting with Dean, the better for keeping his secret.

But Dean had other plans, he grabbed Sam around the waist as he walked by and pulled Sam in for a hug.

“Was it hard to go back there?” Sam asked, hugging him back, his whole body so grateful for the contact, pulling power or whatever from Dean immediately. It almost masked the reaction of his body to Dean’s proximity. To the press of their groins together, to Dean’s hands on his back, in his hair. He gathered himself up tall and pushed Dean away gently. “I gotta go get started.”

“I know, just thought you might need a recharge before you did,” Dean said, looking a little embarrassed.

“I did need that, thank you,” Sam said, quickly taking off down the hall before he blurted the whole truth out. He was already hating himself for having to lie, but Dean would understand. _He had to_.

`~*~’

Sam stood over Raya, one hand on her shoulder as he injected the third hypo full of his blood. “You know, I read about you and Sakina years ago. I can’t believe I got to meet one of the Sisters Without Mercy.”

“Is that what we are known as?” Raya asked, grinning so widely Sam could swear he saw her back teeth. She looked hungry, ravenous even. He shivered and tried to change the subject, taking a couple steps away from her.

“How would you come to know something like that, Sam?” Raya asked.

“It’s one of my—uh, hobbies, researching serial killers,” Sam said, feeling a little sheepish admitting it out loud to someone other than Dean. Well, Jody knew, and they kind of shared the obsession to a certain degree.

  
“We were known as serial killers?” Raya asked

“Yeah, why, does that surprise you?” Sam asked.

“It was not a defined thing to be back in my time. We did what we had to do to survive,” Raya said with a dark certainty that made Sam shiver again.

“But you enjoyed it, planned and profited from it,” Sam pointed out.

“There was no other way for us, not back then, not where and when we lived,” Raya said. “I’d do it all the same if I had to do it over again. Don’t try to tell me that the great Sam Winchester has never enjoyed killing someone else.”

Sam thought about it carefully, examining himself, there had been several times he had taken some satisfaction in killing someone or something, but it wasn’t the same as actually enjoying it. “I don’t agree, I’ve killed a lot of creatures, deities, monsters, even some people. And yeah, I’ve been glad that I was able to kill them, usually because it meant that me or someone I was trying to protect was saved. I wouldn’t say that’s the same thing as enjoying it.”

“What about when you had no soul?” Raya asked.

Sam tried to not let the shock of her knowing that show on his face. He had no idea if he’d managed it or not, and thought about how to answer that. “I don’t think about that time as being truly me, and the soulless version of me didn’t enjoy anything, he had no emotions. He only wanted to get the job done.”

“Do you miss that simplicity? Crowley said he thought you seemed happier that way, not so conflicted maybe?” Raya asked, “I could give that back to you, you know.”

“No, never. Having no soul was worse than being possessed by a demon or an angel, or both at once.”

Raya raised her eyebrows. “Both at once? Is that even possible?”

“Long story, speaking of Crowley…but yeah, been there done that, and I’d rather do it again than spend another second alive without my soul.”

“You’re going down there aren’t you?” Raya said.

“Going down where?” Sam asked, trying to hide his surprise,

“Still a demon, still reading your mind, sorry,” Raya said with a weak smile.

“Yeah, I am, I have to. I…uh…I had a dream about what’ll happen if I don’t. I’m going to put things right before you get the Gates closed. That way Hell won’t throw all its chaos onto the earth just as I’m nearing retirement age.”

“Are you telling him that you’re going? Will he know where you went and why?” Raya asked.

“Only if you tell him. And if you do, he’ll try to stop me. I promise I won’t go until I’ve finished curing you, okay? And I’ll be back here before you’re done with the third Trial.”

“It’s not going to be pretty while you’re gone,” Raya said, head lolling back on the chair with exhaustion.

“Yeah, I know, but it will be when I come home,” Sam said.

“I won’t give away your little plan, Sam, but I think I actually have a way to help. Do you still have that amulet, the one that Dean always wore?”

“Yeah, why?” Sam asked, wondering which demon had talked to her about that, probably Meg or Bela. He’d had the amulet hidden away when Abaddon had been around.

“It’s your ticket in and out of there, anything that’s a conduit to God will work in this spell. I assume you have a copy of the ‘Codex Gigas,’ look in the fourteenth section on _via iter est ad infernum_. You’ll find it there, it’s quite easy when you know where to look.”

“Fourteenth section on ways to travel to Hell, I’ll go look it up right now. Thanks, Raya,” Sam said as he was leaving the dungeon.

`~*~’

Dean lay next to Sam on his bed, listening to the second side of Rush’s

‘Moving Pictures.’ It sounded really good on his new speakers. Sam’s body had finally relaxed, at least it seemed like it had. Sam was almost done with curing Raya and he’d come in to rest with him, just to get a break from being in there with all the crying and carrying on.

He knew it was different this time for Sam than it had been before, doing the cure with Crowley and then Dean, because he’d known them. Sam was still angry with Raya for what she’d done to Dean and so he’d had a harder time controlling that anger as she cried and raged at him.

Dean turned over to face Sam after the album side ended. “You know how we were talking about the whole un-demon-ing spell and why it did or didn’t work?” Dean asked.

  
“Yeah, what about it?” Sam asked.

“I was wondering about how it worked for you,” Dean asked.

“Because of me having Azazel’s blood you mean?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, wasn’t it still in you at that point?” Dean asked.

“And isn’t it still in me even now is what you’re really asking here,” Sam said with a half-sided grin. “The answer is no, I don’t still have Azazel’s blood in me. I thought it had burned out back with the whole letting Lucifer thing out, but it was still there when I went through the first two Trials. That was part of what made me so ill while it was burning it all out of me.”

“When you had that fever, in that hotel in Colorado, you were raving about being purified.”

“That’s what I meant, it was literally burned out of me and it really really sucked. It sucked having it in there all that time even more I guess. So yeah, I’ve been completely demon-blood free for a few years now.”

“That’s…that’s good to know,” Dean said, not sure where to put this new information. Not sure why he was suddenly feeling so happy to hear about it. Sam possibly having demon blood in him all this time hadn’t been near the top of his worries-about-Sam list for years.

  
`~*~’

 


	8. Chapter 8

`~*~’

“Here’s to being human again,” Raya said, lifting her wineglass up to toast.

Dean clinked it with his beer bottle, and Sam with his water glass. The brothers sat on one side of the kitchen table, legs pressed up against each other, hip to knee.

“I appreciate your cooking very much, Dean. Food has not tasted the same since I became a demon, so this is my first real meal in a very long time,” Raya said, cutting another piece off of her steak.

“Have you thought of who you’re going to free from Hell?” Dean asked, uncomfortable with accepting any praise from his former captor.

“There were souls in Hell that hadn’t turned into demons yet, they were in a separate section from where we were, even when there were just the waiting lines,” Raya said.

“So just go pick someone out of there then,” Dean said.

“No, it has to be an innocent soul, remember?” Sam said.

“There were souls of people I knew when I was human, I can think of several that were undeserving of Hell,” Raya said.

“Raya, you were just a full-on demon, I think maybe your judgment on innocence might be a little skewed,” Sam said.

“How about that first guy we met, from when we first tangled with the crossroads demon, name was Evan something,” Dean said. “He’d made that demon deal just so his sick wife could live. Pretty good bet he’d count as an innocent soul.”

“Yeah, trapped in Hell because of a demon deal made for good intentions, that’d probably count,” Sam said. He left the kitchen and came back, walking quickly holding their father’s journal.

“Evan Hudson was his name. Raya can you find someone in Hell by knowing their name? When I went in to free our friend Bobby, I just randomly found him, but I had to search for a while.” Sam sat back down at the table next to Dean, sliding the journal over to Dean with his finger pointing at Evan Hudson’s name written in Dean’s own handwriting on the page for crossroad/demon deals.

“There is an index, a record that is kept, of which soul is where in Hell. I know the keeper of it, so it shouldn’t be a problem. Getting in and out, will be harder now that I’m human again,” Raya said.

“Rogue reaper,” Dean said.

Raya looked at him blankly.

“You need to find a reaper, one of Death’s servants that’s gone a bit rogue, they have a spot they can sneak into Hell that doesn’t set off any alarm bells,” Sam said.

“Did Crowley know this?” Raya asked, sounding very surprised.

“Maybe, we weren’t sure, but he did kill the reaper that led me into Hell when I did the Trial,” Sam said.

“Reapers used to be angels, or something like that, but they’ll do it for a price,” Dean said.

“I can pay any price,” Raya said without hesitation.

  
“Ajay asked us to owe him a favor, what do you think they’d ask from Raya?” Sam asked.

Dean shrugged and grimaced a little. “Who knows, with Bobbie in charge now, things might have changed. Maybe there aren’t any rogue reapers around.”

“Last time we had to get the information out of a crossroads demon to even find the guy,” Sam said.

“I knew all the crossroads demons, one of them will eventually talk,” Raya said, confident in her connections.

`~*~’

“Here are the Enochian words you say after killing a hellhound, and then freeing Evan Hudson’s soul. Two separate things, see?” Sam said, handing Raya a paper he’d written everything down on.

“You spelled it out for me phonetically?” Raya asked.

“Wasn’t sure how good your Enochian would be,” Sam said.

“Probably not nearly up to snuff as yours is,” Raya said with a sly grin.

That grin meant she’d known about what had gone on with him in the Cage all those years. How his Enochian would be the equal of any angel’s.

“Hope there’s only one Evan Hudson down there,” Raya said to fill the silence Sam’s introspection had left in the conversation.

“Ask him whether he remembers us or not, that’ll tell you if you’ve got the right one,” Sam said.

“Why won’t you give me the Enochian words for the last Trial?” Raya asked.

“We want to be there when you do it,” Dean said from the hallway.

“Fine, I’ll be back soon,” Raya said in a loud voice she aimed at Dean. She leaned into Sam’s space and whispered, “You better talk to him while I’m gone.”

Sam glared at her and didn’t say anything, because he wasn’t going to, and he wasn’t going to explain himself to her with Dean listening.

Dean handed her a set of car keys, “The truck should be fine to get you to the crossroads and beyond. You remember what I taught you?”

“Yes, your driving lessons were very fine, Dean. I feel I am ready for the wide open roads of the US of A.”

Dean rolled his eyes at her and watched her leave. “Good luck, Raya. We’ll be seein’ you soon.”

“Bye, Raya. Kick it in the ass!” Sam yelled as she slipped through the door to the garage.

“We should have just killed her when she was a demon, what if she screws this all up going down there?” Sam asked, thinking about how it could all go so wrong so fast.

“Screws up Hell? How is one former demon going to affect anything down in that place? They’ve got enough craziness going on to keep them busy for eons,” Dean asked.

“I’m just worried about the Balance thing that we’re supposed to be paying attention to, Heaven is so depleted, and Hell’s so unmoored without a leader. It was left up to us to do that, remember?” Sam asked, glad to have figured out a way to introduce the topic in a way that probably wasn’t suspicious.

“Sammy, big picture questions like that are way above my pay grade, I’m just concentrating on keeping you balanced, so how about some dinner while we binge the rest of ‘Breaking Bad’?”

`~*~’

Dean whipped up a quick spaghetti and meatballs (with a green salad of course) and brought it to Sam’s room. The man cave idea had been great, but he hadn’t even gone back in there since they’d smashed the free pawn shop tv. Sam’s flat screen was back to being the best in the bunker. Sam had obviously tidied his room up, the bed was neatly made, extra pillows were ready for them to sit up against while they ate and watched. Sam stood by his desk, side-lit by the glow of the tv screen, he seemed to get more beautiful every damn day. How was that even possible?

“You think Evan Hudson was the right choice? What if he was an awful person? We only know the one thing about him and his wife, he could have been a really bad guy otherwise,” Sam asked.

“No way man, someone like that, they’re not like a wife-beater or something on the side too. Selling your soul, it’s a big damn deal,” Dean said, going quiet at how own memory of it, how sure of his decision he still was now, even after everything that had followed.

“I can imagine,” Sam said, looking at him like he used to back when they were kids, and Dean could do no wrong in Sam’s eyes. Dean had missed that worshipful look, but it meant something even more important now. Because they weren’t just kids, and Sam was still everything to him.

“Is that spaghetti and meatballs I’m smelling?” Sam asked as he climbed onto the bed next to Dean after he’d started up their Netflix account.

“Yeah, and a salad too,” Dean said, handing him his plate once he’d settled down.

Sam’s fingers lingered over his on the edge of the plate and Dean felt that electric zing of connection again. He wondered if that was ever going to stop happening, or if he’d ever get used to it. He hoped not.

“What is it?” Sam asked, almost too quiet to be heard over the gunshots from the tv.

“Still…uh, not used to that zing when we touch,” Dean said.

“Yeah, it’s not something you can ignore,” Sam said, forking up almost half of his salad.

Dean watched Sam chew away at his greens, glad to see him eating, and mostly happy. “I don’t want to ignore it,” Dean said.

“Me neither, I hope I never get used to it,” Sam said.

“Funny, I was just thinking the same thing,” Dean said.

“Watch your show, you’re missing it,” Sam said, tossing his head towards the screen with a fond smile on his face.

Dean grinned back at him and dug into his spaghetti, twirling the strands. He felt Sam’s attention as he brought the fork up to his mouth. He wanted to tease him for watching him eat, but he couldn’t, instead he played it up, made it as sensual as possible.

Sam huffed and turned towards the screen, but left his shoulder against Dean’s for at least the first three episodes. After that it was all a blur, but they ended up under the covers, legs entwined and the tv off.

`~*~’

Sam woke up first for once, thankful that the awful prophetic dream hadn’t come again. He wouldn’t have been able to hide that from Dean. But being awake first, he finally had a chance to look at a sleeping Dean from close up. He took in Dean’s relaxed face and tousled hair, he couldn’t help caressing the side of Dean’s face. The zing as their skin touched woke Dean up and getting to see it happen from close up was the most beautiful thing Sam had ever seen.

Dean’s eyes slowly opened and focused on Sam. A small smile started to form and Dean mumbled, “ g’ mornin’, Sammy.”

“Sorry for waking you,” Sam murmured, his hand still lingering on Dean’s face.

Dean nuzzled his head into the crook of Sam’s neck and seemed to go back to sleep. “This okay?” Dean finally asked.

“Yeah, of course,” Sam said, he slowly counted to a thousand, wishing he could just stay here the rest of the day curled up with Dean, practically cursing himself for eventually having to pull away and be more closed-off.

As he slunk out of his room, he thought it would be a good excuse to help disguise his decision, Dean wouldn’t get suspicious because he’d assume it was their new intimacy freaking Sam out. Even though it was anything but that. Nothing had ever felt more right than having his brother in his arms, in his bed, warm and safe. Together.

`~*~’  
  



	9. Chapter 9

`~*~’

Dean pushed his empty dinner plate away towards the center of the War Room table. “So, I guess we need to summon a demon here for Raya to cure, right?”

“Should we just pick a random name of a demon we know?” Sam asked.

“How about someone we knew as a human who maybe didn’t deserve it?” Dean asked.

“How about Bela? I was thinking she’d be a good choice,” Sam suggested, still picking at the cherry tomatoes in his side salad.

“Sam, she shot you!” Dean yelled, gesturing with the crystal glass he was about to pour a shot of whiskey into.

Sam laid his fork down and sat up straighter in his chair. “Yeah and she stole the Colt from us too, sold me out to Gordon, and thought she shot both of us dead in our beds, but she made a demon deal for some reason, and it sure as hell wasn’t to get three inches like Crowley.”

“Remember using those sex dolls as decoys in our beds? I always wanted to see her face when she figured it out,” Dean said with a smile at the memory. Even though it had been at a very bad time for him, right before going to Hell, Bela had been a worthy adversary.

“What was it that Becky told us, about the Supernatural books, way back at that crazy fan conference thing?” Sam asked, spearing the last tomato with his fork and bringing it to his mouth.

“That Bela gave the Colt over to Crowley so he could eventually pass it on to us, to try using it to kill Lucifer. So there’s that at least,” Dean said watching the tomato disappear into Sam’s mouth. He needed to stop himself from doing that so blatantly, why couldn’t he stop?

“True, and back then you said you figured out that Bela had her parents killed for some reason that wasn’t just about money because she would have eventually inherited their fortune. She made a demon deal at fourteen to have them killed because of something else,” Sam said.

“I always figured it was probably some sort of abuse, probably daddy dearest, and her mom didn’t do anything to stop it. Seemed like a fourteen year old wouldn’t say no if a demon offered to make it all stop. What do teenagers know about their eternal souls or spending an eternity in Hell, right?”

“Pretty much fuck all, if I remember correctly,” Sam said.

Dean laughed at the idea of either of them really understanding about bargaining away their souls at that age. One thing Dean knew from personal experience, he would have done it back then in a heartbeat if it was to save Sam, just like he would do it again today if it was necessary.

Sam looked at him, with a sudden and sharp focus on all of the things Dean was not saying out loud. Dean felt himself putting up walls inside and out to keep Sam away from that last thought. Because he knew what a burden it was for Sam to know that Dean would sacrifice himself all over again. But what was true was true, whether Sam liked it or not. He tried to smile, to paper it over he came up with a patented big-brother tease.

“Besides, I seem to remember you having quite a fantasy going about Bela, or do I have that wrong?”

Sam didn’t answer him, just scowled and looked away. He got up from the table and pushed his chair back under it.

“When’s Raya getting back do you think?” Sam asked just as he was about to pass through the war room archway.

Dean examined Sam’s shoulders and saw how tense they were, his hands ached with the urge to knead the stress away. He remembered doing that for Sam when he would be studying for all those AP exams back in high school. How his brother would come apart under his hands, those breathy little moans he would try and fail to hide.

“She’s out there scaring up a hellhound to kill and breaking back into Hell to get Evan Hudson’s soul out and back up to Heaven where it belongs. Who knows how long that’ll take her to accomplish, she’s still getting used to being human again. It took you more than a few weeks right?”

Sam turned back towards him finally and Dean hoped there would be a chance for more time with Sam before he hid himself away again in his room or dove back into yet more research. “Think Evan will come with her willingly? It took me quite a bit to convince Bobby to come with me when I broke him out, she doesn’t even know Evan besides what the little we told her.”

“You never told me that about Bobby,” Dean said. “Come have another drink and lay it on me.”

Sam sloped back over to the table and sat down, on the edge of his seat like he wasn’t going to let himself stay too long or get too comfortable.

“You okay there, Sammy?” Dean asked, pouring a measure of whisky into Sam’s glass and sliding it across to him.

“No, I’m really not, there’s something I should…that I’ve been trying to—” Sam stumbled and stammered his way through not really saying anything and Dean couldn’t stand it. So he interrupted with the first thing that came to mind.

“You’re not leaving again, are you?”

Sam stopped and froze in place, his eyes didn’t even move, Dean couldn’t tell if he was still breathing. He snapped his fingers in front of Sam’s face, Sam slowly blinked and sort of restarted like an android rebooting.

“Leaving?” Sam asked, voice gone hollow and spare.

“Yeah, well you’ve been so uncomfortable around here _(the around me went unspoken but was still heard)_ lately, I just thought—“ Dean said, never so glad in his life to be interrupted.

“No, Dean, it’s not you. I mean…it is you, but it’s not. I’m not leaving that is—no, just…I can’t.”

Dean wasn’t sure how to react to this word salad from his usually well-spoken brother. He shook his head hoping the words would rearrange themselves into something that made more sense. “What is it about me?”

“It’s not just you, it’s the whole you and me thing, the deeper connection. It’s just…taking a while for me to get used to it I guess,” Sam said, blushing very deeply.

Dean couldn’t help but notice that the triangle of skin on Sam’s chest that was visible turned just as beautifully dark pink as the rest of his skin. Maybe just a shade or two deeper than Sam’s lips. He desperately wanted to taste them.

“Like just now, I’m not supposed to be able to read your thoughts, and maybe I’m not really even doing that, but I would swear that you were just thinking about my lips,” Sam said.

Now that it was his turn to blush, Dean wasn’t sure what to do besides sit there and take it. Whatever teasing or yelling Sam needed to dole out, he’d take it because he deserved it, all of it. He wouldn’t blame Sam for a second if he did actually leave for good at this point.

“I’m not going anywhere, Dean. And I honestly don’t mind that you were thinking about my lips. I mean…I uh, I do the same thing, all the time.”

“You think about your lips?” Dean asked with a slow grin that Sam immediately returned.

“Jerk,” Sam said, leaning in across the table just close enough to brush his lips against Dean’s.

  
Dean was about to answer with the usual refrain of ‘Bitch’ but then Sam was kissing him, softly, but still somehow little-brother insistent and demanding. Not asking for permission but telling Dean he wanted it, needed it. Dean lost himself in the new sensations, the ones he’d always imagined were even more heightened and overwhelming than seemed possible, it was almost too much. Combining all the things he loved most about his brother, and adding this new dimension on top was too much, his heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest.

He pulled back from Sam just to be able to breathe on his own. He had to keep his walls up that last little bit, just in case Sam was teasing or testing or didn’t really mean it.

“I do mean it, for real, Dean,” Sam said.

  
“Thought you weren’t a mind reader, Sammy,” Dean said.

Sam shook his head and smiled, and looked at Dean, dead serious and so damn beautiful. “Don’t need to be, I know you, I know what you’d be thinking right now. How you’re trying to wall yourself off just in case I’m going to pull some little brother teasing bullshit on you. And I’m just not, if you want this, want me like this, then you know you can have me. I’ll leave it up to you,” Sam said, standing up again and walking out of the room.

  
Before Dean had a chance to break down completely or throw caution to the wind and run down the hall after Sam, he heard the noise of their truck pulling back into the garage. Apparently Raya was back, and hopefully done with the two Trials. He wished she’d taken just a bit longer to get that done so that he and Sam could have had more of a chance to get on the same page. He tried to wash the dishes quickly so he could join them both and get the third Trial going, but the lasagna pan was extra crispy this time.

`~*~’

Sam heard Dean start doing the dishes behind him, and then the noise of Raya coming in from the garage. He hurried to meet her in the hall, glad that they’d have a bit of time before Dean was done. Once his brother started a task like dishes, he wouldn’t quit until it was completed. He handed her an envelope with Dean’s name written on the front and swallowed noisily. This was final, he was actually, really-for-real, no take-backs doing this thing.

“Did you do it?” Sam asked.

“Yes on both counts, easy peasy,” Raya said looking very proud of herself, but also extremely exhausted. Now that she’d begun the Trials, they were obviously taking the same toll on her body as they had on Sam.

“Swear to me that you’ll give it to Dean right away. The second he figures out that I’m gone, he’s going to…” Sam trailed off as he was faced with the enormity of what he was doing to Dean by sneaking out right after they’d just finally gotten somewhere good together.

“I’ve got it, I swear. Good luck, Sam, and thank you,” Raya said, hugging him briefly.

Sam was surprised to have the former demon in his arms and he hugged her back. “Thank you for doing the right thing, Raya.”

“He’s going to hate that you’re gone,” Raya said looking at him closely. For a moment Sam expected her eyes to flick over to black and then recalled she was no longer a demon. “I was in his mind for a month, Sam, I know how deeply he feels about you. He’s going to go absolutely nuts.”

“I know, that’s why you’ve _got_ to give him the note, right away,” Sam said stepping away from her when he realized that he probably wouldn’t see her alive again.

“I will, don’t worry,” Raya said.

“I’m counting on it. Good luck, Raya, and thanks, for all of it,” Sam said, he sketched a little wave and quickly walked down the hall to his room, locking the door behind him. He rested against it for a second, setting his mind straight from the whirl it was going through again, playing out all the possibilities and complications.

He thunked his head back against the locked door to stop himself from changing his mind. “It’s going to work, it has to. He’ll understand, he knows I’ll come back,” Sam told himself, saying the words out loud, trying to steady his voice.

The go-directly-to-Hell spell that Raya had told him about worked perfectly, almost too well to be believed. The amulet glowed hot and heavier than usual in his hand, he had to slip it into his pocket before it burned him or he dropped it. There was no glowing doorway or sulfurous mist, it was a blink-and-you’re-just-there kind of experience. He heard doors opening and slamming closed, and then he heard the screams of Hell, smelled the copper stench of red meat and felt the closeness of the terror and panic that all the demons swam in down here.

_He was here to rule them all._

Sam stood up straighter, head brushing the top of the low hallway ceiling and let his powers flow out. They unfolded from his body in a heady rush, immediately cloaking him in the raiment of a king. He quickly stuffed down the Sam who hid from his power, who didn’t accept it, and let himself become what they needed to see. He repeated the thought over and over in his mind like a mantra to keep that focus:

**_I am here to rule them all._ **

His arrival in Hell was a surprise to the unorganized demons that were aimlessly swarming the throne room. The assembled throng went silent upon his entrance, and then, one by one, they knelt, some putting their foreheads down onto the dirty stone floor. Two of the demons stood and bowed deeply, then gestured towards the ridiculously gaudy throne. Sam strode forward and stood on the dais, turned towards the crowd of bowing or kneeling demons.

“Denizens of Hell, I am here to rule as your rightful king. If anyone objects, step forward now,” Sam thundered. He smiled internally at the sound of his voice ringing through the room, filling it with a terrifyingly righteous thunder. How much would Dean be loving this, seeing all these demons bowing and scraping?

He waited for a few long beats, until finally one of the largest demons stood and met his eye. “By what right do you claim the throne?”

“By Azazel’s blood, and as the vessel of Lucifer himself,” Sam said, putting the thunder back into his voice as he named names and assumed absolute control and dominion. The demon shrank before him and bowed deeply, accepting Sam’s right to rule to rule Hell.

“The chaos in Hell ends today, by my commands we will reorganize and make Hell evil once more!” Sam said proclaimed.

The two demons who had led him to his throne began to applaud, which caused the rest of the room to join in, the relief and joyous applause of the assembled demons rolled over him in a sycophantic wave. Sam couldn’t believe how much they just wanted a ruler, someone to tell them what the hierarchy was, and what their jobs in it were.

“Your majesty, what may we call you?” one of the demons who’d begun the applause asked from the right side of his throne.

“Or should we just say, your majesty?” the other one asked from the left side of his throne.

“You may call me that, or ‘my king’. But my name is Sam Winchester,” Sam said, emphasizing his last name so the entire room could hear. All the demons knew the Winchester name of course, most probably knew his story as well as Dean’s and their father’s. But the prophecies, his time in the cage, his role in letting Lucifer out were all Sam’s.

“You two are now my deputies,” Sam said to the two demons who stood beside his throne. It seemed like a good call since they’d been brave and smart enough to interact with him instead of just immediately going into blind worship mode.

The two demons seemed to stand up a little taller, and both nodded, accepting their new roles without further comment.

“I want you to reorganize this place for me, I give you both my full authority to make the changes necessary. Just make it happen, and fast, you understand? I want results, the quicker the better.”

“Yes, my king,” they both murmured and backed away from his throne.

“Oh, and before you go get started on all of that, I need to resurrect one of you. She was Azazel’s daughter, I knew her by the name of Meg.”

“I will send the resurrectionist to you, right away, your majesty,” the taller demon said.

Sam inclined his head slightly in thanks. It wasn’t as hard as he’d thought it would be to treat these demons as a haughty ruler would. There wasn’t much to them besides grasping for power in the endless world of pain they found themselves stuck in for eternity. Sam let himself smile this time outwardly, noticing how the few demons who’d been looking at his face seemed to shiver and shake in fear. Good, that’s the exact reaction he’d wanted. The more the masses of them feared him, the better.

`~*~’  
  
  



	10. Chapter 10

`~*~’  
  
Time flew by quickly during what was likely the first few days, it was an easy task to get things reorganized once he’d gotten the responsibility delegated to demons with some competence. His new team got the majority of demons quickly whipped back into a more orderly shape. The ones who didn’t comply were brought before Sam in chains and he dispatched them with a snap of his fingers, easy peasy, snap, gone for good.

The resurrectionist complained and questioned his request to resurrect Meg at first. The stooped old woman eyed him with suspicion and fear. “She will not be a party to your rule, your majesty.”

“I know that, but I still require her services. Will you begin it now, or do I need to summon another who will clean up what’s left of you?” Sam asked, holding his hand up where she could see his long fingers prepared to make the final snap.

She scowled at him and then nodded.“Yes, your majesty, right away, I will begin.”

“How long will it take?” Sam asked, worrying about how long the reconstitution process to bring Meg back to her demon form would really take. He couldn’t leave Hell until he had her put back together and onboard with his plan.

“It is usually a day or two, but for one buried so deep, and scattered so thoroughly, it may take more,” the old demon said.

“You have two,” Sam said, dismissing her with a wave of his hand.

Sam hoped that he had two more days to wait for Meg to be reassembled. He was guessing that not too much real time had already passed by upstairs, that Raya hadn’t gotten too far along in the process of curing Bela. He’d forgotten how strangely time moved down here in Hell, and wished there was some way to have a clock on the wall that gave the date and time on Earth. Sam shouldn’t have been so surprised when one appeared on the stone wall, just as he’d imagined it. He was happy to see that it was still the same day that he’d left, and just three hours had gone by back home. It had felt like weeks had passed here. He’d been carving notches in his bedpost every time he took a chance to sleep in Crowley’s old quarters, but as there wasn’t any visible night or day in Hell, that wasn’t much of an indicator.

Two days later, Meg was whole and herself again, and she was brought before him where he sat upon the throne of Hell. He dismissed all the other demons from the throne room so that they could have their first meeting in privacy. Once the door closed behind the noisy departing throng Sam looked at her from head to toe, she looked virtually the same as she had the last time he’d seen her. He remembered how they’d driven away in a panic, leaving her to face Crowley alone.

“Fancy meeting you here, stranger. How’s your unicorn doing, and what about mine?” Meg asked.

“Mine’s…uh, doing fine, thanks, he says hi. Yours though, well, I’m not sure how to explain it, but he’s not on this plane of existence anymore,” Sam said.

“So not all the way dead and gone then?” Meg asked, an emotion approaching sadness flitting over her face briefly.

“Something like that, yeah. He’s not ever coming back from Heaven or beyond. So, Meg, I bet you’re wondering what I’m doing here in Hell, and why you’ve been put back into one piece.”

“Had crossed my mind, don’t tell me you’re going to take over doing the hairdresser salon thing again like Crowley was into at the end there. Because that was just cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs,” Meg said, smiling that sly one-sided smile at Sam.

“No…nothing like that. I brought you back for something in particular. I want you to run Hell so I can go back home,” Sam said, watching Meg carefully for any reaction.

“Why would you pick me, out of all of us demons?” Meg asked, head turning to the side as she looked at him, shrewd and considering.

“Meg, you once told me that you found a cause and you served it, that it was how you ran your life. I think you can do that same thing with running Hell the way it _should_ be run.”

Meg stood up a little straighter at the praise and seemed to think about the idea. “What’s the catch?”

“There is one, a big one. The Gates are going to be permanently closed, pretty soon as a matter of fact,” Sam said, quietly, he hoped that none of the demons were eavesdropping. He glanced at the clock and saw that there were only a few hours left back home before Raya would be done with the third Trial.

“ _The_ Gates, as in the ones that we use to get into and out of Hell?” Meg asked with wide, surprised eyes.

“Yep, those are the ones, after they’re shut, Hell will be closed off from Earth forever. No demons allowed topside ever again.”

“Good, a closed-off system will be easier for me to govern,” Meg said, approaching the throne, Sam could see the plans beginning to form behind her eyes. “I accept the offer and I thank you for the opportunity, Sam. Always knew you were one of the good ones.”

`~*~’

Raya was bouncing off the walls with her triumph, she had done it, she had gotten in and out of Hell with Evan’s soul, and while she was down there she had happened to have a chance to kill a hellhound. So she was two Trials down and raring to go for the third.

Dean wanted to wait to start the last of the Trial things until Sam joined them. Where was his brother anyway? Sam should have heard Raya come back into the garage, the truck was not at all quiet. He looked up and down the long hallway.

“Dean, Sam told me about this plan of his. I tried to talk him out of it, but he was so sure that it needed to happen this way, that he had to go there himself.”

“What the hell are you even talking about? Where is Sam?” Dean demanded, towering over her against the brick wall.

Raya looked up at him with exhaustion and some fear, and handed him the envelope that Sam had left with her.

Dean saw that it had Sam’s handwriting, the familiar curve of the way Sam had always written the ‘D’ of his first name, so wide and open. He knew he needed to be alone to read this, he couldn’t do it in front of her. Not with what she’d done to him.

“You go stretch out on the couch for a little while, then we’ll get started on the third Trial.” He turned and walked away from her as quickly as he could.

“It’ll be okay, Dean, he knows what he’s doing,” Raya said in a sad voice that followed him down the hall.

He shut his bedroom door and locked it. He didn’t want anyone to see this, how he would fall apart for the last time. He knew without reading this letter that Sam was gone. No wonder he’d freaked in the kitchen when Dean had asked him if he was leaving. Dean had been right to leave up all those walls between them.

He sat on the edge of his bed and traced the edge of the envelope with one finger, hesitating. He wouldn’t know for sure until he read this. He didn’t want to read about how he was sick for wanting them to be together, how Sam could never be happy with him, how he wasn’t enough or what Sam wanted or needed. He knew all that already. Sam told him that every damn time he left.

Finally the words that Raya had just said filtered through into his consciousness from his recent memory. _Sam had to go there himself_. Go where exactly? He ripped open the envelope and unfolded the paper hoping to find out.

_Dear Dean,_

_While you were gone retrieving Raya, I had a dream. Well, it was more of a prophecy than a dream. Because of this vision or whatever you want to call it, I have gone to Hell to_ _temporarily_ _take over and straighten things out. In my dream I saw how the chaos down there isn’t going to solve itself just because the Gates get closed. I am convinced that the best way to keep humanity safest is to have someone in charge to keep the chaos down to a dull roar._

_My plan is to assume control, then choose a demon to make the new ruler of Hell, and be back before you and Raya are done curing Bela. There should be plenty of time because of how it moves so differently down there._

_Please get started by summoning Bela, I left all the equipment and the instructions laid out in the dungeon for you and Raya to use._

_I will be back as soon as I can. I’m not going to tell you not to worry, because I know that’s pointless, but maybe this will help:_

_All I want is to be with you, Dean. That’s what I’ve always wanted_ _._

_I will see you soon, and I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you the truth before._

_I Love You,_

_Sam_

At first Dean didn’t react, it wasn’t what he’d thought at all. It was somehow a million times worse. It wasn’t a personal rejection or whatever, Sam hadn’t just left him. Sam wasn’t even here in their world anymore. Why didn’t he feel it though? Did that mean Sam wasn’t dead?

He rushed from his room to Sam’s, and had to jimmy the lock open. He found a neatly made bed and organized closet, but no Sam. He ran through the rest of the bunker, checking all the places that Sam would have used to do a spell or whatever to travel to Hell and found nothing. No cars were missing, but his brother was. Sam was really gone. Finally, after all the fruitless searching, he ended up down in the dungeon, where he found Raya, reading over Sam’s notes on the third Trial.

Dean didn’t want to show Raya how he was being torn apart by his brother’s sudden departure, or what Sam had done by going without telling him first. She had known all along where his brother had gone without even telling him, she had known, a damn demon _again._ Raya had been the one who Sam had confided in, the one who Sam had chosen to trust over Dean. His heart felt like it was being squeezed in the fist of a massive I-told-you-so.

“Did you do the confession part yet?” Dean asked.

Raya nodded and handed Raya the stack of Sam’s notes. She obviously could see how torn up he was, but was now human enough not to say anything about it.

To cover all the turmoil he was feeling, he robotically did exactly what Sam had asked him to do in the stupid note. Because what else was there? He quickly combined the spell ingredients that Sam had left out for them and summoned Bela to the dungeon. She arrived with a puff of sulfur and a small scream, collapsing into an ungainly pile in the center of the devil’s trap. Before she could come to her senses, he hefted her up into the chair and secured her with the shackles as Raya watched them.

“Why if it isn’t Dean Fucking Winchester himself! Why in the world am I here?” Bela demanded, shaking her limbs against their restraints.

“We’re going to make you a human again, Bela,” Dean said in a monotone.

“You’re going to what? If all you wanted was that angry sex I promised you, Dean, I can make it a whole lot better as a demon as I’m sure you well know,” Bela taunted.

“That’s not what this is about, not by a long shot. Raya will take it from here,” Dean said.

“Wait, you’re Raya? Like Raya from Hell, Sister Without Mercy, all that? But you’re not a demon anymore, how?” Bela asked.

Raya sketched out a sarcastic bow in Bela’s direction. “Yes, it is I, human once more thanks to the Winchesters. And now I shall do the same deed for you.”

Raya began performing the demon cure on the very confused demon with the first injection of Raya’s own blood, now human and purified from the first two trials. Bela screamed and carried on so much that they had to step almost outside the dungeon to even talk.

“I really hope this works,” Raya murmured.

“Me too,” Dean said in an expressionless voice. “Just keep a timer going, and don’t miss any of the injections, every hour on the hour, for eight hours, until it’s done.”

“You’re not staying with us?” Raya asked.

“No, I’m goin'…I gotta…you got this, Raya,” Dean said, stumbling the rest of the way out of the dungeon room back to his own.

Dean was absolutely distraught that Sam had gone to Hell without telling him. Dean knew he wouldn’t have ever let Sam go, no matter what Sam had said. He internally scolded himself, “ _No wonder he didn’t tell you. You didn’t trust him about the third trial business, why would he trust you with this?”_ But that kiss, and the things Sam had just said to him, what it had said in Sam’s note. It didn’t add up, he couldn’t possibly just sit and wait here for Sam to maybe come back at some point.

The thought of Sam being stuck in Hell by himself, maybe forever, was unbearable. And even more unendurable was Sam turning himself into the Boy King, fulfilling the demonic prophecy they’d always fought against. How could Sam ever come back from that? How could he ever be just his Sam again?

Dean ground the heels of his palms into his eyes, clearing away the stinging tears of frustration. Maybe Sam knew what he was doing about the taking over Hell thing, but he still might get stuck down there. Dean had a little less than eight hours as measured up here topside to stop the worst from happening down below. It had to be possible for Dean to get into Hell and get them both out safely. Maybe it would prove something to Sam if he went there for him. Maybe it would communicate to Sam that he really wanted this thing between them to change into the next thing it was becoming, lovers or whatever it was meant to be. He wanted it more than anything. Just that small taste of possibility had practically knocked him out.

He dug around in his medicine cabinet and came up with several bottles of pills that would probably work. Before he could think too hard about it and talk himself out of this last ditch attempt to fix things, he washed all of the pills down with the rest of the whisky that was left in his current bottle. He laid back on his bed to wait for the toxic stew to do its job. He reached out to what he’d always think of as Sam’s side of the bed, and tried to remember how it had been being wrapped up with him the last few nights.

_Just breathing together, recharging, balancing, being._

He drifted off to an uneasy sleep or maybe a coma or whatever, his last thought was to hope that the next thing he saw would be Sam, but no, of course not—this was his life after all.

“Dean Winchester, I swear on all that’s still holy, you’ve got a helluva nerve, boy!” Billie yelled in his face.

Dean sat up quickly and tried to step away from his now-dead body that lay on the bed. He winced to see the mess of drool and foam all over his slack face but found he couldn’t separate from himself. “Hey, Billie, come to reap me yourself, I’m so honored.”

“What are you playing at this time, Dean?” Billie asked, putting her hands on her hips.

“It’s Sam…he’s gonna be stuck there in Hell with the Gates closed. I have to get him out. He can’t be…I can’t…you know us,” Dean stopped himself, he knew there was no point in begging anything from her.

“How were you going to accomplish all that if you were dead, you damn fool idiot?” Billie grabbed his hand and in a blink they were stepping into the throne room of Hell. Her power still surrounded them, so none of the demons noticed them. “You go talk to him, you two are beyond help at this point!” Billie hissed in his ear.

And then she was gone. But at least he was right where he’d wanted to be. And maybe he wasn’t really dead, which was a real bonus, right? He wiped the foam and drool off his face which seemed like proof. He watched Sam ruling from the throne for a minute or two, trying to stay quiet and invisible as possible. But of course Sam knew he was there, the moment Billie had left he’d known. Sam was letting Dean look, allowing him to see Sam being the Boy King that had always been foretold. Sam directed demon after demon that came before him on their knees to stand up and take charge of this or that part of Hell. He projected competence and authority and no one argued with him at all. The demons really seemed to be relieved as far as Dean could tell.

Finally the mob of demons before Sam had been assigned tasks or sent off and they were left alone. He felt Sam’s eyes on him from across the room, raking over him, angry and hot. He wished his body would stop responding this way to Sam’s attention, but it drew Dean towards the throne where his yellow-eyed brother sat, patient as a cat that knows it’s being fed on its own schedule.

`~*~’

 


	11. Chapter 11

`~*~’  
  
“So you’re finally where you belong, huh?” Dean snarked, futile attempt at being recognizable.

“You have no idea what you’re saying, Dean,” Sam said in a voice that sounded as far away from the real Sam he knew that it scared Dean down to his bones. The power coming off of Sam in waves pushed and pulled at Dean until he was right in front of him a few steps down from the throne.

“Do I have to kneel or something?” Dean asked, unable to keep the snark out of his voice.

“Why are you here?” Sam asked, sounding infinitely patient and annoyed.

“I’m here to take you home with me,” Dean said.

“And just how were you planning on doing that?” Sam said.

Dean felt his heart sink down past his boots and towards the fiery center of the Earth below him. It seemed much closer here, at least in his imagination. He had no plan, beyond just getting there in front of Sam to try to convince him to come back right away.

“No idea,” Dean admitted. “I just had to get here before it got cl—“

“Don’t say or even think it,” Sam commanded in a powerful voice, strong as thunderclouds rolling in.

Dean made the zipping his lips gesture and managed to roll his eyes as well.

Sam rolled his eyes right back and the power waves shimmered away off of his shoulders, folding back into him. His eyes flashed that sick yellow once more before shifting back to their usual multi-colored beauty. So beautiful, so damn beautiful…his brother’s eyes, he could float in them…live there forever…

that’d be just fine…

yeah, that’d be just fine with him…

Dean shook his head, pushing the strange thoughts that weren’t all his away. “What’re you doing to me?”

“I’m not doing anything to you, Dean. I am, however, trying to figure out why the fuck you’re standing here in my throne room,” Sam said.

“Sam, or should I say, Your Majesty? I had to come, you _know_ that,” Dean insisted.

“Don’t you _ever_ let me hear you call me _that_ again. Not you,” Sam said in a flat tone that promised real consequences.

“You have to come home with me right now. We only have a few hours left before she’ll be done…you know. I couldn’t risk you being stuck here forever, Sam!” Dean yelled.

“Did you not get my note?” Sam asked calmly and seemingly unaffected by Dean’s passion.

Dean wanted to kill him just for the way he so off-handedly said that, it was infuriating. Like that note had been any bit more effective than the one he’d left Sam when he went off to be a demon. He held back on saying or doing anything in that moment, not wanting to risk angering the new King of Hell. Instead he just bowed, like you were presumably supposed to do to a king sitting on his throne.

`~*~’

Sam watched as his brother bowed, only Dean could possibly manage to make a bow look so damn sarcastic. He almost giggled at the thought, but restrained himself, he was still the king, at least for a few more moments. Maybe it would end up being a good thing that Dean was seeing this for himself, that is if he was able to get both of them topside before the Gates got slammed shut forever.

“Dean, this was a temporary thing. I had to put myself in charge of Hell so that I could get things reorganized. And so I could bring her back and put her in charge of Hell for the rest of forever.”

“Who, _Ruby_?” Dean asked with so much obvious jealousy in his voice that it almost made Sam laugh. But that would have made Dean even madder than he already was, and Sam didn’t need that right now.

“No! Why would you think I’d ever want to…you know what, never mind. No, not Ruby, I brought Meg back. She was the one who always seemed to know what was needed down here, and I always thought she was a really strategic thinker.”

“Sam, fine. Great decision, whatever, I just…we need to get out of here A.S.A.F.P.,” Dean said.

Meg appeared at Sam’s right hand. “Hey there, Dean, what in the world are you doing down here again? Sam told me he was leaving soon to get back to you.”

Sam stood up from the throne abruptly and held Meg’s hand up in the air to address all the demons who’d refilled the room. “Hear me, and hear me well, all you denizens of Hell.” Sam’s voice echoed and sang through the space, filling all of the air, until he could feel he had all of his subject’s full attention. “As your King I hereby declare that your new and forever ruler is Meg. All hail, Meg, Ultimate Ruler and Queen of Hell!”

Sam made sure to get the ‘Queen of Hell’ chant really going because demons got into that sort of thing. As soon as he had Meg ensconced on the throne where she was mobbed with well-wishers and sycophants, Sam shuffled Dean off the throne dais and out the side door of the throne room. He guided Dean into what had been his temporary chambers the last couple of nights. They had been Crowley’s private rooms before him. He locked the door against whatever might try to come through after them. He didn’t want to be interrupted for what might come next.

Dean was looking around the room with wide eyes, examining all the finery and gilded edges. Sam guessed he was probably recognizing Crowley’s over-the-top decorating style. Dean tested out the huge bed with a tentative hand, and sat on the edge where the covers had been turned down. “This where you’ve been staying?”

“How did you get down here this time?” Sam asked, pleased at his ability to not immediately begin yelling.

Dean didn’t look up at him, and Sam could tell it was for a good reason for once. “Billie brought me, she didn’t let a reaper take me…wherever I was gonna go.”

“Dean…tell me you didn’t do it…shit, so you killed yourself, _again_?” Sam asked, despairing at the thought of Dean doing that yet again. His power flared up and he stuffed it back down desperately, he couldn’t let it distort this conversation.

“It was the only thing I could do,” Dean said, sounding so small and defeated. Sam heard Dean take in a deep breath and then watched as he sat up straighter and raised his head to meet Sam’s eyes. “I can’t do it without you, Sammy. I thought you said we had to be together. But you left me.”

“I was coming back to you, right away. Why didn’t you believe me? Why couldn’t you just trust that all I want is to be with you?” Sam asked, voice filled with all the obvious despair that he didn’t bother hiding this time.

“Because you just left me there, after everything…and I thought they’d probably do something to you down here to change your mind. I know how weird it can get in this place. How time can get away from you and how persuasive demons can be.”

“Goddamn it! I had a plan to get myself back, but it only works for one person. So you are going home, right the fuck now, Dean. Before Raya gets it done and closes the Gates. I don’t want you to get stuck here, especially now that I’ve just given up the throne and can’t protect you.” Sam found himself looming over his brother as Dean sat on the edge of the bed, blocking Dean from standing or getting away. He didn’t care at that point if he got out of Hell, but Dean had to, he had to protect him.

“Oh fuck you very much, I am not leaving, not on your life,” Dean said, putting his hands on his hips, and staring up into Sam’s face, his own face mutinous and angry.

Sam smiled internally at Dean’s response. “You ought to know by now that you can’t out-stubborn a little brother. You don’t have much of a choice at this point,” Sam said, stuffing the amulet into Dean’s shirt pocket and beginning to quickly mutter the words of the return spell.

Dean wrapped his hands around the back of Sam’s neck, and silenced him with his mouth, taking him over, interrupting him in the best way he’d ever experienced. He lost himself in the new delight of mapping out every inch of Dean’s mouth, his lips softer than Sam remembered from that one kiss that now seemed like weeks ago.

“I’m not going anywhere without you, Sammy,” Dean murmured against Sam’s lips. “I don’t care if I’m stuck here in Hell with you.”

Sam’s heart filled with sorrow, he pulled back and looked at Dean. He knew that he wasn’t strong enough to make him leave, not now. He hesitated, memorizing the feeling of Dean’s arms around his neck. “What am I gonna do with you, Dean?”

Dean answered his question by pulling him down onto the bed so that Sam’s body covered and aligned with Dean’s in the only answer that Sam had ever wanted to hear.

“We’ve been fighting this for so long, right? And well, we’re already down here so we might as well…” Dean trailed off, his lips leaving Sam’s to scatter kisses down the side of his throat.

Sam groaned at the exquisite feeling of those lips finally being there, right exactly there where he’d always pictured them, and he knew with everything he had that Dean was right. “Nothing and nowhere left to hide from each other, there’s no point if we’re stuck here together, right?”

They learned each other’s bodies then, hands searching, lips and tongues never stopping. It wasn’t frenzied or rushed, but it was _so_ intense, Sam thought he’d burn up from the feeling of every point of contact. Every single place their skin touched that now-familiar zing set off sparks of pleasure coursing through his whole body. It had never felt like this with anyone else, _never_.

“I’ve known this for a long time, that we would end up here,” Sam said.

“Where, in bed together, or in Hell?” Dean asked.

“The first one and just so you know…I mean, I’ve got to say…it’s not just about sex. I mean, uh…at least it isn’t for me,” Sam said, sounding so unsure, so young to his own ears, he couldn’t bear it if Dean laughed.

Dean chuckled and squirmed under the weight of who he probably thought of as his idiot brother. “Don’t you know by now, after everything, how deep this goes?”

Sam couldn’t speak, he felt like every cell in his body was holding the atoms within it from vibrating, anticipating his brother’s next words.

“Sammy, for someone so smart you have no freaking clue. Dude, me either, sex is not what all this has ever been about. You and me, being together like this has always been, well it’s…god, Sammy, it’s everything.”

The next breath Sam inhaled began the spin of his atoms, it was his first breath in a new world. He’d never felt so in-sync with someone before.

Sam tried to think clearly, to make some smart comeback remark, but Dean was making that difficult. He was extremely talented with his mouth, just as Sam had always guessed he would be.

As Dean began to unzip Sam’s jeans, he had a sudden thought about the spell, if they were joined as one, it might just work for both of them. In Sam’s experience spells were pretty dumb that way. And if it by chance it didn’t work, if Dean was wearing the amulet and Sam could manage to say all the words, well at least he would go back home with a good memory. At least they’d have had each other this one time. It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was something.

Sam’s thoughts were interrupted by Dean’s laugh somewhere down near his hip, his wet lips and tongue skating across Sam’s skin. “You done thinking yet, Poindexter? Mind if I get back to business?”

“You may proceed,” Sam said, in a faux-regal voice which made him burst out with an inappropriate laugh which cut off as Dean took him in hand and brought the tip of his cock to his beautifully kiss-swollen lips.

“You told me not to call you this, but your majesty, your every wish is my command,” Dean said with his own chuckle that Sam could feel in his very core as the words traveled through his cock into his heart and back out again.

It was all a blur from there, and neither of them could stop to spare a second thought to where they were, or what time it was. It didn’t matter anymore, nothing did, except for them, they blocked out the world, every damn level of it, and narrowed the focus down to where it had always belonged, just the two of them.

“Do you want me to, or do you want to?” Dean asked, up on his knees, stroking his own very hard cock in an achingly slow rhythm to match Sam’s. They had found some lube in Crowley’s bedside drawer and were using it to smooth the way.

Sam’s mouth watered at how Dean looked in that moment, he wanted to taste him, eat him, devour him, so he could never be anyone else’s ever again. Dean raised his eyebrows and Sam remembered there’d been a question asked. “I want both, I want it all,” Sam said, breathless at the thoughts that flooded what was left of his brain, so focused on maintaining the rhythm and not coming before whatever happened next.

Dean let go of his own cock then and reached behind himself with a lube slick hand. Sam could tell from his brother’s moans what he was doing. He did the same to himself so that he would be ready too. Whichever way they did this, Sam would make sure it was good, the best that Dean had ever felt.

“Always pictured you doing me,” Dean said with an adorable blush. “But if you want me to, then I’ll—“

Sam pulled him down with his non-slick hand and kissed the question off his lips, he tugged and pulled until Dean was kneeling around his hips. Sam held himself steady as Dean lowered himself down, swiveling his hips in tiny circles, breathing deeply as Sam entered him. The feeling was indescribable, the tightest, hottest…he’d never thought it could be this amazing. Dean’s hands landed on Sam’s chest, one hand over his heart. One of Sam’s hands covered Dean’s and they looked at each other, neither moving, just breathing together, recharging in a different way that meant everything and worked a trillion times better. As Dean smiled, slow and warm and only for him, Sam’s heart beat even faster, his powers began to spin up and the mind-melding thing turned back on, they could both feel everything.

Dean’s eyes widened in surprise and then went dark and intense with lust. It was beautiful and Sam hoped his own eyes were doing the same, so that Dean could see. Sam could feel every movement Dean made and vice versa, the feelings zinged back and forth between their physical and not-so-physical bodies in a moving current that swept them away. They pounded into each other, fast and hard, deliberate and slow, soft and easy, forever and ever and then nothing at all was left but heat and white hot pleasure.

Sam managed to pull it together enough to quickly murmur the spell’s words, The amulet burned a hole right through Dean’s flannel’s front pocket where Sam had tucked it. A matching burn was left on each of their chests where it was smashed between them. It was the only thing that could have brought them out of that endless bliss. That and noticing that they were back in Dean’s bed. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, that something intended to only work for one soul would carry two that were so intertwined and interdependent.

`~*~’  
  



	12. Chapter 12

`~*~’  
  
“I’m guessing this wasn’t how the thing was supposed to work?” Dean asked in a low rumble against Sam’s chest.

Sam ran a hand up under Dean’s flannel to touch all that bare skin that was his to touch now and smiled at Dean’s question. “No, it was only meant for one soul to get in and out.”

“That mean what I think it means?” Dean asked with a smile in his voice.

“The soulmate thing again, yeah probably,” Sam answered. “You okay with that?”

“Hey, I’m not stuck in Hell and neither are you, I’m good with it,” Dean said, arm tightening around Sam’s chest.

“Me too, and I’m glad that you came for me,” Sam said.

“You are?” Dean asked, lifting his head up enough to see Sam’s face.

Sam caressed the side of his brother’s cheek, thrilling at how Dean leaned into it. “Yeah, I am. Makes me even more sure that this was the right thing to do, to cross the line we’d always—“

“Avoided acknowledging even existed?” Dean asked with a grin.

Sam nodded and grinned right back, heart feeling full, and happy that Dean could joke about something like this so easily. It was all so real now. That they were everything to each other, not only brothers and friends, but hunting partners and now lovers. “We both fought this for a long time, and we deserve it.”

“Fuckin’ A-right we do!” Dean crowed, rolling on top of Sam and kissing him noisily, wet, messy, and thoroughly delicious.

There was a knock at their door, they both fumbled the quilt to cover their dishevelment. Raya’s voice floated through the grate. “Hey guys, I’m almost done if you want to be there for the last one, ten minutes.”

“We’ll be there!” they both shouted in unison. They untangled themselves from the bedclothes and their own clothes. Dean took the time to warm up the water at his sink and cleaned himself with a washcloth that he then tossed over to Sam. Dean dug around in his dresser and found Sam a t-shirt, flannel, sweats and a pair of boxers that didn’t stink of sulfur. They dressed in a hurry and joined Raya in the dungeon, not caring for a moment that both Raya and Bela would instantly know by the fucked-out expressions they each wore what had happened.

“Glad you could join us,” Raya joked, “looks like you took care of a few unfinished things, huh, boys?”

Bela’s head lolled back and she smiled very weakly at them. “Hi, I didn’t think I’d get to say thank you.”

Sam put his arm around Dean’s waist and looked over the scene. It looked like both Dean and Raya had done exactly as he’d instructed, he could see that Bela was just about at that final turning point. “Hey, Bela, we’re glad we got back in time. You ready?”

Bela nodded slow and dreamy, her eyes never leaving Raya’s movements. “I love you all, I do—I do—I swear that I do,” she said in a breathy rush.

“We know, dear, we know. Here it comes,” Raya said, gently turning Bela’s head to the side and injecting the last bit of blood into Bela’s neck. She recited the final words of Enochian and looked from Sam to Dean and back again.

“I apologize again, Dean, for what I did to you. And I thank you both, it’s been an adventure. I’m glad to be doin—“ Raya stopped, pain cutting her voice off mid-word.

Dean stepped forward and caught her before she hit the ground. Her forearms blazed and pulsed with the holy light that Sam still dreamt about trying to contain. They both watched, fascinated as it streamed out of her in a continuous, breathing, living shimmer of grace.

Bela slumped against her constraints and Sam crossed to her. She opened her eyes when he lifted her head. “I’m…me again?” she said with a question that made Sam’s heart soar with hope.

Had it really worked this time? “How’s Raya?” Sam asked, turning to look at Raya’s body burning itself out as the last of the grace finally left her, she turned to fire that burned cold and hot at the same time, destructive and cleansing. Raya died in Dean’s arms, burning up and crumbling to nothing but grey ash in his lap.

In the next moment, before Sam felt like he’d even had a chance to take a breath, the bunker’s alarms all went off. Kevin had told them that when the angels had fallen that it had also happened, but it was still a shock to the senses. Sam quickly unshackled Bela and helped her stand, she collapsed almost immediately so he scooped her up in a bridal-style carry. Dean was standing and dusting himself off with a disgusted look on his face.

“You okay?” Sam asked as he started towards the door, nearly shaking with relief when Bela passed the unbroken devil’s trap boundary without a problem.

“She’s really cured then?” Dean asked, following closely behind Sam down the hall to one of the guest bedrooms.

“Guess so, since Raya’s gone, and Bela got past the devil’s trap.” Sam gently laid Bela down on the bed and switched on the bedside lamp. Dean handed him a blanket and they covered her up.

“You think she needs anything?” Dean asked.

“Probably some rest, not sure what comes next,” Sam said, slipping an arm around Dean’s waist, and he was never going to get tired of being able to do that now. Especially not when Dean leaned into him that way and slipped his own arm around Sam’s waist. They stood and watched Bela sleep for a long moment, but then the alarm’s blaring got to both of them.

They let go of each other and hurried down the hall to the control panels. Sam flicked several of the switches and pointed out where Dean could too. Eventually the klaxons stopped and finally the red lights stopped blinking, the normal lighting returned. The big board was lit-up like Christmas though, showing all the demons being returned to Hell hopefully.

`~*~’

“Raya did the whole hourly injections thing, she was talking the whole damn time about you two, how you’d go to Hell and back for each other. She was worried you wouldn’t come back in time, Sam. And then when she realized that Dean had gone there too, she freaked. But she carried on curing me the whole time you were gone in Hell,” Bela said, setting her mug down on the table.

“Time is really different down there, it seemed like weeks,” Sam said, finishing off his coffee, he stood up from the table to join Dean at the stove.

“I’m going to miss her,” Bela said.

“That’s how Crowley felt about Sam here for an uncomfortable amount of time, after he almost cured him,” Dean said, laying their breakfast plates on the table. Sam joined them with his own plate and sat next to Dean, close on the bench so their hips to thighs touched.

“She made her sacrifice though, she paid her debt, and got an amazing thing accomplished,” Sam said.

“You did too, Sammy,” Dean said, looking up at Sam with admiration. “Bela, you wouldn’t believe how he got the demons organized and put Meg in charge of them all so their chaos bullshit won’t spill out onto Earth anytime soon.”

“Meg, really? Interesting choice,” Bela said with one arched eyebrow.

“You know her too?” Dean asked.

“As big as Hell is, it’s like a small town too, everyone knows everybody else. There’s nothing else to do, as you know well, Dean, torture gets boring after a few eons.”

Dean swore under his breath and stood up abruptly, heading to the sink to angrily scrub at his plate.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought that up,” Bela said to Sam.

“He doesn’t talk about it much,” Sam said in a low voice that he hoped Dean wouldn’t hear. “It’s okay, Bela.”

“She needs to get out of here,” Dean said in a low growl when Sam stepped up behind him, wrapping him up in a hug.

Sam sent a wave of soothing energy through his brother and smiled when Dean relaxed a bit in his arms. “She’s leaving today, remember?”

“I’m just going to take off now. It’s been lovely catching up with you both. I’ll be in touch, let you know where I land. Thank you both so much for choosing me to be the one to cure,” Bela said.

Sam kept one arm around Dean’s waist, and hugged her a bit awkwardly with one arm. “I’m glad it worked out, Bela. Don’t be a stranger, huh?”

“I meant to say, that I’m quite sorry that I shot you, Sam. It was really unnecessary,” Bela said with a wide grin as Dean stepped away from Sam’s side..

“Damn right it was,” Dean said from where he was leaned up against the sink with his arms crossed over his chest.

  
“Thanks for the use of the car, Dean,” Bela said. “I’ll bring her back to you soon, I promise.”

“You take care of her, okay? The Men of Letters garage won’t look the same without that Jag.”

Bela stepped forward and gave Dean a small hug which he returned a bit hesitantly.

“I’ll see you two gents later then,” Bela said with a little salute, she stepped up and out of the kitchen. A few moments later the brothers heard a car start up and zoom out of their garage.

“Think I’ll ever see that Jag again?” Dean asked.

“Do you really care?” Sam asked. “It’s not like she’s Baby or anything even close, right?”

“Wait, did you just call her…Baby?” Dean asked with a surprised smile.

Sam didn’t say anything, just pulled Dean in a for a hug and thought about those weeks driving around looking for his lost brother. How the car had helped him search almost the whole time. “She’s special to me too, you know.”

“I know that, Sammy, I know,” Dean said in a pleased little mumble that made Sam’s heart feel sore with too much happiness.

`~*~’

Sam and Dean both came back from Hell in one piece.

One piece that was _them,_

_SamandDean_

_Finally_ put together the way they were always supposed to be.

Like a puzzle solved or a statue finally finished.

Both of them still smelled vaguely of sulfur, even after a week’s worth of showers.

But Sam’s eyes didn’t flash yellow ever again.

And his powers were much more under control thanks to the continuous connection he now shared with Dean.

They made up for all the years they’d lost fighting against it, their growing realization that they were always meant to be together both as lovers and partners in the hunting life. It just wasn’t worth hiding it from each other, not for one second more, how much it all meant, so they didn’t.

That was their real reward in the end.

_The End_

`~*~’

 **Epilogue:** Once Bela got out on her own and figured out how the internet currently worked (a whole lot had changed in nine years,) she found that she still had access to millions of dollars as she had died with no heirs. Her will had designated a trust that she still had maintained control of through many shell corporations. She quickly proved that she was indeed alive again by coming up with a plausible kidnap story that the bankers and lawyers actually bought as the truth. Eventually she ended up sending the brothers an enormous reward for her chance at a new life.

`~*~’  
  
  



End file.
